


Venus

by viraseii



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Lost Lance, Angst, Black Paladin Allura (Voltron), Black Paladin Keith (Voltron), Blue Paladin Matt Holt, Dark, Drinking, Drowning, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gambling, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Keith and Matt are fake dating for a while, Kissing, Lost Lance AU, M/M, Magic, Major Original Character(s), Memory Loss, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Season/Series 02, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Swearing, Wakes & Funerals, canonverse, depressed the hell out of me by the time i finished it, everyone dies, it switches halfway through for reasons, klancebb17, lion switching, this is just sad honestly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 17:33:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 88,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12281202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viraseii/pseuds/viraseii
Summary: It takes seven years for them to defeat Lotor. A rebel alliance and too many deaths and by the time they're done, it doesn't feel like any of it was even worth the effort. Little things like how Keith meets these kids who like to braid his hair, big things like how Shiro has apparently been alive and well on one of their frequently visited planets, keeping tabs on them.Big things like how Keith falls in love.Big things like how Lance vanishes.Big things like how, despite being a universal hero, all Keith has is regrets.Little things like Venus.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Lost Lance AU](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/327798) by kaxpha on tumblr. 



> This is for the Klance big bang!!! Sadie is my artist she has gorgeous work and it's coming your way guys :))
> 
> This is also influenced a lot by [This House Unfinished](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7656958) by [boyghosts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boyghosts/pseuds/boyghosts) so go check that out if you haven't heard of it
> 
> I want to stress that this is season 2 compliant, the plot has no relation to events of season 3 or season 4 at all.
> 
> i also may have taken the phrase "if they have to kiss for you to know they're in love, you're not writing a romance correctly" a little too far rip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just saying, season four has wrecked me and i'm not okay. How's everyone doing?

### takeout is better when you're broke and there are leftovers in the fridge - i

"I don't _care_ what Shiro said. Shiro also disappeared on us before we were even sure Zarkon was defeated. He's obviously known Keith for longer and sees him as the glorified talented pilot he is - and he's blind to the fact that Keith isn't fit to lead!"

"Yes," Allura says, impatience barely hidden in her voice as she goes back and forth with Lance. "But you're forgetting the fact that Keith has already piloted the Black Lion. The Lions do not pick anyone to be their Paladins. The Black Lion would only have allowed Keith in if he had the qualities to lead."

"Well, Keith does have leadership in him," Hunk points out. "He's just... way too uptight about everything." Keith clenches his fists under the table. He _knows_ that.

"Which is exactly the opposite of what we need," Lance fumes. Keith closes his eyes again, trying to imagine any scenario where it isn't _Lance_ saying _these_ words in _this_ situation. Because he knows. He knows he isn't in control of his emotions. He knows that if anyone is, it’s Lance. He knows Shiro likely only chose him because he was delirious from pain, or because his judgment was clouded by the fact that Keith was his friend. "The Black Lion could have been doing it in order to save Shiro. Keith's so moody, maybe he was just in a leadership mood where he actually figured out how to use two of his brain cells, so the Lion was just. 'I'll take it.' It was a life or death situation. Can you _see_ us _ever_ forming Voltron with Keith as the head?"

Keith stands up suddenly, shoving the chair back hard enough that it screeches and echoes around the room before toppling over. He throws a glance up at Allura right in front of him before turning and storming out of the room, away from everyone discussing him like he isn't there. It's been that way his whole life - foster parents, Garrison officials, with the Blade of Marmora, and now the one place he's actually been able to feel like he belongs recently. His legs automatically steer him toward the training room and he rolls with it, commanding the gladiator to begin training sequence four and throwing off his jacket.

He's barely started when someone walks in. "What do you think you're-" it's Lance.

Keith swings around and launches his expanded Marmora blade. It flies through the air, the luxite stunningly aerodynamic, and not only skims Lance's shoulder but pins the fabric to the closed door behind him. Lance flinches before figuring out what’s just happened, and turns his newly angry gaze over to Keith.

"What," he breathes as the luxite shrinks into Keith's normal knife, "the _hell_ is your problem." His glare is icy cold. He reaches behind him and tugs the blade out of the wall, gripping it tightly in one hand.

"Fucking fight me, Lance," Keith snarls, his emotions boiling over viciously and ready to violently upheave Keith's self-control.

“Fine,” Lance says smoothly, looking grim as he turns his face down so he glares upward at Keith. He steps forward, gripping Keith’s own knife. “Because obviously you’re not willing to talk about it. Because obviously your reaction to having to deal with any social situation is fighting your way out of it, or standing awkwardly where there’s minimal interaction. Because obviously-”

Keith rushes him. He raises his bayard high in the air, and Lance just - just sidesteps it, not even so much as tightening his grip on Keith’s knife. Keith's sword arcs through empty air and he struggles to control its momentum, turning it back and pushing forward again. Lance brings up the knife to block.

Normally, Lance isn’t very good at close combat. It’s out of his comfort zone. He’s okay, but Keith always, always, always outdoes him. It’s a given, and apparently Keith’s been taking it for granted because today he can’t seem to get close to Lance. “Stop it,” he growls out.

“Oh, stop what?” Lance bites back. “You want me to sit still like a punching bag? You want me to run through preprogrammed attacks you can predict and counter before they happen?” loosens his grip on the knife. Before Keith registers the slight change, Lance is drawing up his hand, flicking the knife forward, and it’s sailing through the air until the pommel collides hard against Keith’s knuckles. His fingers lose their grip and the bayard clangs harshly to the floor. The gladiator is still waiting for Keith to re-engage it, standing off to the side, watching the show like it’s so terribly amusing. Keith turns his glare to it instead, so he doesn’t have to see Lance’s blue blue blue eyes. Because he’s right, and Keith doesn’t know how to agree.

“Why do you do that, anyway?” he says, and his voice is surprisingly calm despite his rapidly rising and falling chest. “Why do you try so hard to avoid _any kind of cordial interpersonal contact-_ ”

“It’s not like I try!” Keith bursts out. Lance does this. He draws everything out of him, whether Keith wants to give it up or not. “I’ve been isolated my entire life. You’ve grown up surrounded by people. You hate being in space because of how empty it is. Me? I don’t care.”

“You don’t care. You don’t care- yeah, you do, Keith. I see you.” Keith squeezes his eyes shut again. Lance’s voice is drawing closer. “You didn’t risk your life in the trials of Marmora because you don’t care. You didn’t chew Pidge out for wanting to leave because you don’t care. Yeah, they told me all about that, some people know how to - to talk to others and share about what happens to them. And you didn’t spend the entire night lying awake waiting for me to come out of that pod because you don’t care.”

Keith flushes. How does Lance know that? God, the embarrassing shit he’s done before. Now there isn’t even comfort in thinking that Lance doesn’t know about it.

“There were dark circles under your eyes.”

“Why does this matter?” Keith lashes out.

“Look at me when you say it,” Lance commands, and Keith turns his back to him just because he wants to make a point against him. This is what Lance fucking does to him. “Keith! It matters-”

He puts one hand on Keith’s shoulder and pulls him roughly around to face him. He’s much closer than Keith expects at first and his eyes widen as he suddenly finds himself staring upwards. Done. There. Boom. Once the eye contact is made, it doesn’t stop - this is what Keith’s been _avoiding_...

“It _matters_ ,” Lance says curtly, “because if you think you can ever lead, you _need_ to care. You can’t barge in because you’re only thinking of yourself.”

“Lance, I-” Keith’s voice falters as it reaches his own ears. It’s strained and quiet because he’s choking back _so much emotion_ right now. “Maybe I don’t want to lead. Did you ever consider that?” It’s out now, and it keeps coming out. “I never asked to be part Galra, to be the ace pilot at the Garrison, to be Shiro’s right-hand man both figuratively and literally, to be the recipient of the one thing that could count as his will! I never asked for this, Lance! Maybe I didn’t ever want it, did that _ever_ occur to you while you were bickering over my head back there? Do you even care about my say in this? _Maybe I don’t want to do it._ ”

There’s a change in Lance’s expression. It’s surprise... but not really in a _good_ way. Kind of grim. He steps back, and his voice is just as quiet, but his words are much less loaded with emotion - they’re words with wings instead, and they carry Keith into something lighter as he says simply, “Then don’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t do it, then. No one is making you.” His jaw is still set in a hard line, pushed out in defiance, in anger, his eyebrows still pulled together in a way Keith doesn’t like them to be. But the words he’s actually saying are - they’re surprisingly-

It’s as if Keith has a choice in the matter. All Shiro has ever done is tell him he’s going to be leader, tell him he needs to get his head on straight - big _ha_ , but whatever - tell him he needs to learn some self control if he’s going to lead Voltron. And so he tried, he tried really fucking hard with Hunk on their scaultrite mission and he ended up losing some scaultrite to an unidentified Galra soldier, ended up yelling at Hunk around twenty times - but of course, Hunk’s an actual angel and he didn’t so much as blink. God, the rest of them put up with so much of Keith’s shit. Does he do anything about it? Well. He tries, at least.

“Keith.”

“Then I won’t,” he answers as the sound of his name jars him out of his thoughts. And as those words leave his lips, he collapses to his knees, kneeling on the floor in front of Lance. Lance gave him a _choice._ Lance keeps his emotions in check. Lance is attentive to the people around him. Lance takes in the big picture and he thinks quickly, he comes up with solutions Keith himself doesn’t always see. Lance gives importance to teamwork - _we are a good team._ Keith’s heart does something weird, like it’s the flickering flame of a candle for a split second, before settling back. “But who will?” And he surprises himself when he finds himself hoping Lance will name himself.

But he doesn’t. “I don’t know.” And when Keith glances up, Lance is walking out of the room, his fists clenched and his gait still throwing off angry sparks. That’s when the tears come. Keith hasn’t cried in so long. Even when his vision was tunneling around the empty black seat, when his very skin was aching from exertion and all he could think were two things: that Shiro was gone and that Keith would be sitting in that chair next. He didn’t cry. It’s so stupid that this is what makes him cry - that making this choice and choosing for once _not_ to command the spotlight is what brings him to tears. He lets them flow out, choking and gripping his sides with - with - with. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand what he’s feeling.

He wishes he were home.

But where is home, anyway?

No one looks at him any different when he shows up for dinner. Everyone's busy being glum and staring at their food as they eat - not even a comment from Coran to lighten the mood. Shiro's seat is empty, and no one seems willing to break the silence it exudes. Keith wants to know who's going to be the Black Paladin, but he doesn't want to break it either - so he just sits and eats, comfortable that at least no one's treating him different. Because for once he doesn't want to be above everyone. He wants to just _stay._ With them. As an equal.

No one says anything either when Allura calls them into the training room and they find her wearing the Black Paladin armor. It doesn't seem like anyone knew about it, but there are no questions. She leads them ruthlessly through their morning drills, allowing no time for breaks - they're drained by midday.

When they start going from system to system, solidifying peace over every inhabited planet, no one even thinks to wonder at Allura's qualifications to pilot Black - there's no doubt. She's a leader.

And Keith is very, very comfortable piloting Red.

### the third stair creaks and you need to cover the wrappers with other trash - i

"An _entire planet_ ," Lance pouts.

"Worldwide monopoly existing for solely the capitalistic purpose of leeching your money and providing you with cheap one-time entertainment," Pidge whines.

"The most exquisite foods of an entire galaxy consolidated to maximize customer attraction," Hunk moans.

"Sixteen different regions repurposed for tourism, thriving off of enough money to preserve the environment with state-of-the-art technology," Keith begs.

"I said _no,_ " Allura repeats firmly, and Lance throws his head back and groans in frustration. "It is late at night and you need to rest. We're searching the crowds tomorrow for strictly business purposes. I'm not going to give you any money." Her lips tremble with a suppressed yawn. "This conversation is finished. I'm going to sleep now."

At the mention of money, Keith's gaze flicks over to meet Lance's. Lance twitches one eye ever so slightly, the single indication that he's on the same page, and that's the moment he knows exactly how much rest they're going to be getting tonight. He closes his eyes and yawns.

"Fine," he says before he finishes, stretching it out and waiting a few seconds before reopening his eyes for added effect. "You're right. Maybe if we find this guy and finish with him quickly, we can explore later."

Allura gives him a funny smile. "I'm glad you're thinking things through for once, Keith," she muses before turning around. "Sleep well, Paladins." She strides out of the chamber, the strain of being the Black Paladin showing in her weary movements. Keith's seen Shiro with that look more than enough times: she's exhausted beyond exhaustion.

"You gave up on that kind of quickly," Pidge frowns at him as he studies her receding back.

"And she left even quicker," Hunk nods, looking downcast. "I still think this is worth considering for a while longer."

"Well, I mean," Lance laughs hollowly. "I'm tired too. Let's find this guy tomorrow and bust him for being a sneaky little rat. And then I'm going to find the biggest roller coaster and ride it at breakneck speed."

Keith follows him out of the room and down the hall. "Half a varga?" Keith checks as he pauses outside of his door.

Lance smirks at him. "You got it."

Keith smiles to himself as the door hisses shut, sitting alone in the dark. He pulls out his knife after a bit, tossing it up in the air and catching it again by its handle to help pass the time. Vargas are only slightly longer than Earth hours, but it feels like forever before he hears the knock on his door. He stands and pulls his jacket away from the hook on the wall, sliding his arms through the sleeves as the door opens to reveal Lance with arms crossed and lips crooked up at the corner.

"Ready?" Lance asks, and Keith nods as he tucks his knife into his belt. "God, you need to stop caressing your knife every spare moment," Lance sighs as he turns around. "Do you look at it and sing about your reflection? Can I call you Mulan? Mullet. Mulan. I feel like there's a pun in there somewhere, but I ain't about that life."

"Okay," Keith cuts in as they turn the corner and head toward the pods. "Shh. We don't need Allura catching wind of this. She's tired and angry."

Lance nods. "I can always charm my way out-" Keith shoots him an exasperated glare- "but you're right, we need all the time we can squeeze in before morning."

"Whatever," Keith sighs. He digs into his pockets as they walk, pulling out his stack of coins, left over from the last time Lance and he snuck out to gamble. "We're running pretty low. How much is admission? I've got two hundred."

"Hey! I only have one hundred," Lance frowns as they enter the pod bay.

"That's cuz I have the other hundred." They both freeze in their tracks and glance up slowly. Pidge stands in front of them, grinning and tossing up a single 20 GAC coin. They catch it and throw it up again in fluid movements, a single eyebrow raised. Lance inhales and brings his hands up to cover his mouth and nose with steepled fingers. He lowers them straight as he blows out.

"Pleeeease don't tell the Princess," he begs, and Pidge catches the coin and brings their fingers up to their chin as if they're thinking.

"I spent all my money, but Hunk has 600 saved up over the months because he always finds a reason he doesn't need something. So, between the four of us, I think we're good. I can't believe the Defenders of the Universe are addicted to gambling with stolen money."

Keith balks. "The _four_ of us?"

"Well, it's not like you're going to enjoy yourselves at the most exciting place in the universe without us," Hunk says flatly, and Keith spins around to catch him rolling his eyes.

"What?" Lance asks. "No. Keith and I weren't going down there."

Keith looks up at him and frowns. "Yeah we were?" Lance slaps his palm against his face and sighs.

"Fine," he groans. "Whatever. It's not like you're rudely crashing our gambling date."

"It was a date?" Pidge asks playfully, and Keith flares red at the insinuation. Lance's hand drags against his skin as he lets it slide off his face.

"Not in _that_ way, Pidge," he retorts, moving past them and continuing toward the pods. Keith recedes back into his hair somewhat, letting it fall in front of his burning cheeks as he follows. Pidge laughs and then proceeds to start buttering Hunk up for money, which they don't even have to do because Hunk will end up giving it to them anyway. They both climb in after Keith claims shotgun, and then they're off, hurtling toward the nearest amusement planet at Lance's breakneck piloting speeds.

Admission turns out to be 250 GAC and they end up spending all their money just to get in. "First stop, we're winning off some bets," Lance declares, shoving his hands in his pockets and glancing around him. It's like any typical theme park Keith has seen, except everything is much, much bigger: they're near a cafe, but on the other side of it is a massive tower that stretches into the atmosphere. Giant signs that call it "The Terminal" glow from its sides, advertising bungee jumping in simulated heavy gravity - a nine minute fall with optional bubbles. _Bubbles._ Crazy. Music is blasting out of the very ground, and it thrums in Keith's blood, making him heady with anticipation.

"Dragon fighting!" Pidge shouts eagerly, pointing straight ahead where there's a ring of different portals. The one their eyes are trained on is framed in red and black, with a golden dragon's statue rearing its head over the top.

"That looks expensive," Lance complains, squinting at the screen to the side of it. "Required donations of four hundred GAC or equivalent to fund proper dragon maintenance. Man, I hate when they do that. Required donations, why don't you just call it a _fee._ "

"I got it," Hunk announces, reading off a screen from his watch. "Accounting for the time dilation, we have about thirty-four vargas until we have to show up for breakfast at the Castle."

"Sweet!" Lance crows. "I love science." Keith raises his eyebrows.

"Let's go ice skating first," Hunk frowns. "We can probably ask to enter the competition and I figure if there's anything we're guaranteed to win, it's that."

"That's so boring," Lance says softly, pouting.

"Can we go dragon fighting right after?" Pidge grins, and Keith nods.

"Dragon fighting," he confirms, so Lance chuckles and shrugs.

"Fine. Let's go skate around on some ice. Figure skaters are hot."

"I used to figure skate," Keith admits, and Lance barks out a laugh as they push their way through the crowd toward the portal framed in icy blue.

"Keith, you, having the patience to figure skate? I can't imagine it. Why?" He looks over at Keith, eyes glittering as they reflect the floating lights bobbing overhead.

Keith shrugs. "I don't know. It's not like I wanted to or anything. It was just something I did in my free time when I didn't feel like staying in the heat of the desert. I would steal small planes and stuff and fly to the city, teach myself skating at their ice rink. The big one."

"Oh!" Hunk gasps, glancing over at Keith with wide eyes. "No wonder they kicked you out. You can't do that! It's government property."

Keith frowns at Pidge, who's grinning at him for some reason. "I didn't think they'd kick their best pilot out."

Lance whistles as they meld into the line. "That's called abusing your powe-"

"How'd you manage that?" Pidge asks eagerly. "I got away with hacking into their computers and stealing spare parts and stuff, but never anything big. Actually, I did get expelled once, but-"

"Pidge, you got expelled?" Lance shrieks, causing the group of three in front of them to turn around and shoot them strange, orange-eyed looks.

"Well, why did you think I changed my name to Pidge, Lance? I was enrolled as Katie Holt before I met you." Pidge scoffs and rolls their eyes.

"I should have changed my name," Keith says softly, but Hunk lets out a hollow laugh.

"Lance would've recognized you right away." He looks like he's only part-way through what he wants to say when Lance jabs his elbow into Hunk's side.

"Really?" Keith says as they step through the portal, immediately bringing his arms up to rub at his biceps. The temperature on the other side feels like a thousand degrees below zero.

"No."

"Oh, yeah," Pidge says brightly. "You know that first day? He recognized you running through the aftermath of an explosion by the back of your hair. Through binoculars."

Keith frowned. "You have too much free time," he says to Lance.

"With a hairstyle like that, who wouldn't recognize you?" Lance bristles.

Someone comes up to them, a hulking figure covered in lumps and colored a pale orange-yellow. "Would you like to compete?" she asks, her voice tinkling out and fragile like spun sugar. Lance gasps softly.

"In what?" Pidge questions, and she smiles and points to a screen hovering off to their left.

"Ice skating!" she says brightly. "Or perhaps you'd like to attend concessions beforehand? I haven't seen your species before. Where are you from? I'm here to help you in any way I can."

"Pidge, you can bet on me beating Lance," Keith proposes, grinning. Lance makes a shocked choking noise.

"No way! Hey, the two of us will join," he responds right away, and the alien smiles brightly at them.

"That's lovely! The next race starts in eighty ticks. Let's get you outfitted!" she motions to someone behind them, who takes Keith by the arm and starts pulling him off to the left, in the direction of the sign.

"Eighty ticks?" Lance yelps, as Pidge starts asking the alien about betting information.

The alien holding Keith drags him into a dark room where he's stripped of his shoes and jacket before his eyes have the time to adjust. He tries to grab at the hands around him, but all that happens is the sudden feeling of strange, pulsating metal as it wraps around his wrists and crawls up his arm. Joysticks materialize in his palms, buttons and switches resting underneath his fingers as something shoves his legs into heavy shoes.

"What kind of ice skating-" he starts, but he's cut off by a harsh 'shh' and one cold finger on his lips. Then suddenly he's being shoved through an open curtain into insultingly bright white light, and as he squints into the glare he makes out a hundred other contestants spread out along a starting line. There's a clock hanging down in front of them, counting down from 20. Keith blinks away the spots in his eyes and glances around again, locating Lance just a few people over.

A voice blasts from the speakers. "You have a quintent to circle the moon and make it back here!" the voice blares. "All play is valid. If you do not make it back in time, you are disqualified. Good luck!"

"Yo, Keith!" Keith glances over at Lance again. "Did you notice we have rockets in our shoes?"

Keith didn't notice, but he nods anyway. "I don't know Lance, firepower is my thing, _and_ I'm the better pilot. I don't think you've got a chance with this."

Lance laughs. "Pff. Oh, please. Ice is my thing! And the piloting is still under debate." He keeps talking, but there's the sudden sound of a loud horn unlike any Keith has ever heard, and they're off. Keith goes for it, pressing down on the two buttons right under his pointer fingers, and he suddenly hurtles forward as his blades cut across the ice, aided by rockets in the heels just as Lance said.

He almost falls over.

He doesn't, though, and before long he's pulling ahead into the upper rankings. He lets out a whoop as the icy wind slides through his hair and in between his teeth.

### someone who, above all else, you kind of fall in love with - i

Lance tips his head back and lets out a frustrated groan. "I can't take it anymore," he moans, gripping the sides of his helmet and tugging it off.

"Lance!" Allura scolds. "The decontamination is not complete."

"I'm not gonna grow a third eye," he says, his voice high in falsetto and vaguely condescending as he rolls his eyes. He inhales deeply, wrinkling his nose a little but otherwise quickly catching his breath.

Keith follows suit, pulling off his helmet. "Here we go," Hunk mutters, breathless in his locked helmet. The air is sharp and stings his throat but it's _there_ \- oxygen fills his lungs and he closes his eyes, focusing on regaining his bearings. They're in an underwater facility thousands of feet below sea level on a Galra prison break. They were running low on oxygen when the Galra sealed them in a room and gassed them, forcing Coran to come down and link the Castle into the air circulation in an attempt to filter out the poisonous air. Keith inhales and holds, allowing his lungs the luxury of full breaths. It feels good.

Lance snorts, and Keith opens his eyes, blinking his hair out of his view. There's an air current in the room from where it’s getting filtering out, and it's blowing his strands in front of his face. "You look like one of those shampoo commercial models," Lance comments. "Maybe it's you. Maybe it's Maybeline."

"Or Vogue," Pidge offers, grinning and pulling off their own helmet. Allura sighs, closing her eyes in an effort to keep her composure. "That broody look just screams at you to open the cover and read all about health tips and beauty product savings." Keith rolls his eyes.

"I'd appreciate it if you replaced your helmets," Allura suggests.

"I can tie it up if you're gonna be like that," Keith huffs at Lance.

"Princess, I'm sorry," Hunk gasps as his comes off as well. "I'll suffer through whatever will happen to us, but I can't take any more asphyxiation."

Allura looks ticked off but doesn't say anything, instead crossing her arms. She's not quite as good at this as Shiro is - more often than not, it seems as if she doesn't know what to do with them when it's not battle related. She's friendly, but not exactly the end-all be-all for emotional support.

"Decontamination complete in 5... 4... 3... 2... you're good to go!" Coran's voice calls cheerfully through the comms. Allura tugs off her helmet and glares around at them.

"Was that so hard?"

"Yes," Pidge and Lance immediately reply. Allura raises her eyebrows and closes her eyes, turning to Hunk instead. "Go ahead."

He hefts his bayard, already charged and ready to fire, and sends a blast straight at the lock of the door. It melts under the beam, and as the light dies down it leaves behind a glowing, smoking hole in place of the bolt. Allura kicks open the door and they enter the cell yard.

"So, like," Pidge mutters as Keith moves past them to follow behind Allura. "You were on the Garrison swim team."

"Yeah, so?" Lance shrugs.

"Shouldn't you be the last of us to be unable to bear a lack of oxygen?"

"Oh my god, _no_ ," Lance stresses. "Why does everyone assume swimming means you're good at holding your breath? It makes you good at timing and conserving your breath, _when you know you have to do it._ Doesn't mean I'm any more at an advantage than you guys in a possible suffocation related situation."

"Fair point, I guess, but why didn't you conserve it then?" Pidge pushes.

Keith glances around the prison a second time. It's so dark - there's the sound of rushing water coming from the distance. He can make out the bars of empty cells on either side of him, lining the corridor they're going down. It's just a maze of cages. "It's not like that, Pidge. if anything, you should be asking Keith! He's part Galra, and the only other alien here is the one who had no problem with not breathing."

"Alteans are very versatile in comparison to you humans," Allura responds, peering inside a nearby cell. The lighting is too low to make absolutely sure something is clothes or a stool instead of a person. It takes too long. 

"The Galra are the ones who saw us, gassed us, and then evidently flew off to save themselves," Keith mutters. "What part of all of that makes you think I might have a resistance to it?"

"Just saying. You're full of surprises, Mullet Boy."

"Why is it so empty?" Hunk wonders as they move from cell to cell, finding clothes and stools and makeshift beds - everything to suggest people have been here, but no signs of life. "Where are they? Also, if this is a Galra prison, shouldn't it be more... purple? At the very least?"

Allura shakes her head. "This is an old prison, built before the Galra expanded their empire. Most criminals were sent here to be imprisoned for life, to be executed, or to be held in between transports. They built planets like this one throughout the galaxy, but they eventually fell out of use. The water level used to be thousands of units higher. I believe it's been harvested."

"Units?" Pidge asks, raising an eyebrow. "And you're saying the Galra decided to put these prison planets back into use?"

"It's a universal standard of measurement," Allura explains. "That's what we thought. But it doesn't seem so right now. After all, it is dry...."

"Dry," Keith repeats. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"When prisoners here were executed," Allura explains, "they were drowned. It's more natural."

"Sounds horrible," Lance exclaims, eyes wide and popping out of his head. "The suffering! It's a man-made prison planet, and they can't supply it with a simple death shot?"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait," Hunk says, frowning and turning to face Allura. "You're saying that where we're standing, the room can just be flooded at will and we can drown?"

"Well, yes," Allura says quietly, eyeing the other end of the room critically. "That is, assuming the Galra haven't already left us for dead."

"Why would they do that?" Keith says, caution edging his voice. "They gassed us, they're gonna want to check on us to make sure. Galra are nothing if not thorough."

"Only victory or death shall stop me," Lance mimics in a low voice, which _does_ get to Keith a little, but he shoots him an annoyed look anyway. Lance doesn't notice it, which makes him feel stupid for doing it in the first place.

"This was a trap," Pidge suddenly throws out. "Wasn't it? There aren't really any prisoners here."

"No, our scans show life forms, they are definitely here," Allura says confidently. She has a wary tone below her voice, though.

The end of the hall makes a strange electric noise before a screen blinks on, riddled with static and oversaturated pixels. Keith makes out the face of Commander Vain. "Yes," his voice explodes in a burst of radio static. "They were here. They're in the sector adjacent from where we have you. Clever, you are, to thwart Lexyon gas. Would you like to see them?" The right side wall slices in two down the center and shoots to the edges with a monstrous crack of old machinery. Water gushes in from the sudden gap, rushing toward where they stand. Keith stumbles back, panicked.

"Perhaps you can join them," Vain grins, grotesque teeth twisting into a crescent in his eerie snake-like mouth. Bars slam up from the ground, one nearly cleaving Keith in half; he jumps to the side and narrowly avoids the metal, but it knocks into his arm and his helmet falls and goes rolling off to the side. Whatever. He's more worried about the rising water level. The bars go up on all sides, effectively trapping them in separate cages. Lance grunts and tries to shoot at the bars and bring them down, but they hold. Keith rattles them in his palms - they aren't old like the rest of the prison. The material is something a little different than iron and tinted purple - this is a Galra modification.

"You're going to drown us?" Allura accuses, gripping the bars. Several more layers go up around her - somehow, word must have gotten out of how she normally couldn't be stopped by simple boundaries like walls or bars.

"Me? No, I don't think that's true," Vain says. "I'm just helping you out here." The bulk of the water hits Keith, lifting him off the ground and throwing him against more bars he tries to hold onto them, but then the current changes and he's ripped away from them and swept to the side again, slamming into Lance and entangling their limbs together. "Don't you see what you were looking for?"

"Oh no," Hunk says in dismay, tragedy thick in his voice. Keith gasps in air against the sloshing, rising water, and diverts his gaze across the cell yard to the second sector that's opened up. Bodies, hundreds of them, floating on the surface of the water as it levels out, the room now half water and half air. They're still in cages, dead weight knocking against bars. _That's going to be us, soon._ Keith struggles to remain upright now that his feet can't touch the floor - he's mostly gripping Lance for support.

"Lance," he gasps urgently. Lance is blinking and squinting. He doesn't have his helmet either. He's holding his bayard in one hand and the nearest bar in the other; his legs are swirling underneath them, keeping them upright. He's eyeing the rest of the team, Hunk in one cage and Allura and Pidge together in another one. He turns his eyes to Keith questioningly, unbelievably calm given their current situation.

"Would you like to join them?" Vain laughs and an alarm goes off near the screen. Dull red lights flash before the roof starts to rumble. Keith desperately wracks his brain to remember if there are any escapes nearby in the blueprints they briefed with, but all he can think about is how the roof is the only layer between them and the open water. It's not that Keith doesn't know how to maneuver in water - excellency in underwater training was a requirement to even be considered for missions in outer space. But.

"I'm not a very good swimmer," Keith gasps, the last words out of his mouth before the ceiling splits open and thousands of pounds of water come tumbling down on top of them.

Keith is torn from his grip and shoved underwater in the onslaught. His breath has already escaped him - he struggles to get to the surface, but the water keeps coming down and he can't control where he's going. The current slams him against the wall as it shifts, as the room slowly fills up, as he realizes there is no air.

He's going to die.

The screen has gone dark, but the light next to it is still going off in brief flares of red. It's the only thing Keith can focus on without panicking - light, streaming through the swirling water, constant... he. He needs to hold what little breath is left in his lungs. But... he was already short on breath before. His lungs are stinging now from the poison he inhaled earlier. His throat spasms, trying to force in a breath, but he squeezes his eyes shut and refuses to oblige the feeling. The ebb and flow of time starts to feel a little less linear, whether from stress or from lack of air, he can't tell. His mouth starts to open. The water tastes stale and metallic.

Then there are hands gripping his armored wrists and he opens his eyes and seals his lips tighter - Lance is in front of him, eyes locked dead on Keith's and concerned. He thumps his own chest with the palm of his hand and then holds up a thumbs up, question and concern etched into the lines of his face.

Keith's limbs are going numb. He shakes his head, his hair streaking and fluffing out around him as it follows his motions. He sucks in his lips, trying his damn hardest not to suck in water like a fool. His heart is flickering desperately in his chest. He's panicking. Lance shakes his head curtly, as if he's commanding Keith not to give up, and glances quickly over his shoulder at everyone else. His hands leave Keith's wrists as one comes up to Keith's forehead and the other to Keith's chin. Then he's moving forward, his eyes are dropping, his head tilting, and Keith can't really see very well but he can definitely tell Lance is suddenly very. Very. Close.

Lance's lips dump adrenaline into Keith's blood the moment they grace over his mouth. He pushes forward still, Keith's head pinned against the bars behind him, and Keith doesn't understand what's going on but _not a bad way to go at all._ Lance opens his mouth against Keith's, pushing his lips apart, tugging his jaw open with his fingers, and blows forcefully into Keith's lungs, filling him with air that tastes like their lunch from earlier. His head clears somewhat as Lance moves away, once again patting himself on the chest and holding a thumbs up sign. Keith can feel the heat in his cheeks, but he holds up a thumbs up in response because yes Lance does have a really nice chest. His mind is foggy enough that he genuinely has no clue what's going on anymore.

Lance kicks over to the side where his helmet is lodged between two bars and starts pulling at it. The water has stilled, and Allura and Pidge are switching between who gets to breathe from Allura's helmet. The air in Keith's lungs is failing him again; his vision is clearer than before but still darkening, tunneling around Lance. He uses the bars to pull himself over to him and tries to help, grabbing the side of the helmet and bracing his legs against the bars. It dislodges with the second tug, and Lance fumbles to get it on his head as fast as he can.

The water drains as it locks, and Lance visibly gasps in breaths as his chest rapidly contracts and expands. "Blue!" He seems to yell - Keith can't figure out the rest of his sentence by only getting to read his lips. Then he inhales deeply again and pulls it off, bringing it down instead on Keith's head and letting it lock.

There's a burst of static before he hears Pidge's voice on the comm. "Hunk, I think Lance is calling for Blue, just hold on." The water flushes out of Lance's helmet and Keith heaves the new breaths, oxygen still low but better than the rapidly depleting breath Lance blew in his lungs. It smells like sweat dusted faintly with Lance's clean scent; it reminds Keith vaguely of sandalwood or of sand, like home, but not _quite_ as dry. It smells like life. He closes his eyes and curls in on himself, clutching his aching ribs as he pants, his own labored breathing drowning out the noises of Hunk and Pidge.

When he manages to calm himself, he hears Allura: "There it is! The Blue Lion." Keith opens his eyes and glances up, catching sight of Blue zooming towards them astonishingly fast through the dark water - only his Lion can move like this. He's never seen her like that in space. The water tugs against him as she hurtles toward them, slamming into their cage with so much force the bars rip apart, taking good chunks of the floor with it. The current pushes Keith back again and he struggles to maintain his orientation. She somersaults in the water as she comes to a stop and turns around, dropping open her giant maw and letting out a low growl.

Lance reaches toward Keith and grabs his upper arm, powerful kicks propelling them toward Blue. He pulls them inside her mouth and as soon as Keith's legs make it across the jawline it snaps shut, water suddenly rushing out of the small space and leaving Lance and him sprawled across the metal ramp.

Keith claws off the helmet and coughs, suddenly acutely aware of the ringing in his ears. His vision is focused on one specific point, his periphery faded to black, and he can't move his fingers. He rolls over onto his elbows and stomach, staring straight into one glowing bar of bright turquoise light. Air. Air. Air. He's so grateful for the fucking _air._

"Lance??" It's Hunk's voice, clear and panicked and breathless from all around them. "You okay in there?"

"Fine," Lance calls back, but his voice is thin and tight.

"Keith?" Allura calls. Keith draws his brows together and shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut against the sharp pain in his chest at every desperate inhale. Lance is grabbing his arms again, pulling him up to his shaky feet, and Keith obliges, allowing Lance to lead him up to Blue's cockpit.

"Keith's fine, he's with me," Lance answers. He flops into the seat and Keith collapses against its back, lowering his head and resting it against the other side of Lance's headrest as he recovers. Drowning was more natural, his ass. He never wants to experience anything like that ever again.

Rationally he knows what Lance did back there - it was a pretty smart idea and is probably the only reason Keith is alive right now. But the _feeling_ of- "Lance, hurry up!" Pidge yells.

"I'm coming!" Lance strains, his breath rattling around in his throat as he coughs. His hands reach for the controls and Blue starts moving, the screens flashing to life around Keith and showing Hunk, Pidge, and Allura still trapped in cages with their helmets, rapidly running out of oxygen. Lance drives Blue forward and rips open the last two cages, scooping the rest of the team into Blue's mouth as Keith does nothing but squint at the screen. It hits him how similar Blue's interior looks to Red's - the layout of Yellow's interface was a little different. Black's was still adjusted to Shiro's preferences each time Keith was inside, and then he stopped going after Allura took over and everything turned Altean. Lance's ideal layout looks to be almost exactly the same as his.

The Blue Lion sits back on her haunches as she turns her head up to the stars before pushing off with enough force to probably break off part of the floor and send it into the water. The bubbles rising around them blur into one gradient as they shoot upwards, breaking through the surface without losing speed and only slowing down once they reach the nearby moon. Lance sets his Lion down on the surface right as the other three Paladins enter the cockpit, everyone sopping wet and short of breath.

### takeout is better when you're broke and there are leftovers in the fridge - ii

At first they think it's just static. Pidge got hold of a channel a few weeks ago playing music, catching just the last few beats of song, but it was silent since then - they were turning it on at random moments throughout the days, trying to catch something, anything. Lance straightens when he fiddles with the radio now, hearing, for once, not silence. It's a steadily pulsing static, and although it's not anything exciting, it has Keith's attention. Maybe they're about to play something. Maybe they're transmitting, and the castle is just out of range. Allura stands and walks over, leaning down next to Lance.

As soon as Keith acknowledges this, trying to judge whether she's too close to Lance in the moment, whether Lance is going to spoil Keith's day as soon as it begins by flirting with her, is when they hear the rhythm - it's helicopter blades, Keith is sure of it. Then there's suddenly an electronic noise, strange-sounding, the pitch scraping up and down and sending shivers down Keith's spine.

"Wait!" Hunk bursts. "That sounds _familiar._ " Keith gives him a look, turning his palm up and scrunching up his face. How the _fuck._ He's about to say it's literally just interference when there's a chord, something like guitar or electric piano, and then there's strumming, and inexplicable joy rises from his stomach. Lance turns around and shoots them all a genuinely happy grin, and the bullet goes straight to Keith's heart and embeds itself inside. He grins back, letting his eyelids fall as he focuses on listening to the music, eyes on the radio's shadow.

Allura laughs when Lance grabs her hands and starts moving to the beat, and Hunk and Pidge get up and join them - Keith's caution rises, but he hasn't heard actual music in so long. His soul soars as the lyrics start up, the smile refusing to leave his face as he watches Lance laugh and spin around like the elementary students at the Garrison.

_We took a walk at night but it wasn't the same._

He doesn't know the song, but it surprises him when he notices Hunk mouthing the words. "Is this from Earth?" he questions, frowning, and Pidge locks eyes with him, their smile twinkling in their eyes and spilling out with their breath.

"Yeah," they say, nodding. "I don't know how, but it's definitely from Earth." Keith's eyebrows fly up before he refocuses on Lance because he's dipping Allura and she seems confused.

"Oh!" she gasps, before Lance pulls her back up and starts swinging his arms back and forth with her again, looking over at Hunk and grinning as they continue mouthing lyrics at each other. Coran takes Allura's hands out of Lance's and starts dancing with Allura instead, and Keith silently thanks him as Lance turns and grabs Hunk's fingers before twirling around under them. Keith snorts.

"This is really-" Hunk closes his eyes, because there's no need for words. Here, in the middle of space, at the edge of the unknown and surrounded on all sides by the Galra Empire. Here, on this obscure radio channel being picked up by this small shitty radio from ten thousand years ago. Entire planets dying, being drained of quintessence, and there's this tiny piece of metal blasting out music from Earth in the vast depths of nothingness where they've been fighting for their lives.

It's beauty. It's hope.

Because it's _there,_ in the one place it shouldn't be, in the one place Keith doesn't expect it, as he watches Lance roll his shoulders to the rhythm and bounce on the balls of his feet. Lance meets Keith's eyes and breaks away, walking over to Keith and mouthing the words. Keith raises an eyebrow from where he sits on the chair, arms crossed and one ankle pulled up to his other knee.

"You afraid of a little dancing, Keef?" Lance teases, a smile cloying at the corners of his pink pink lips. Keith huffs out a laugh through his nose. He's remembering the kiss, the not-kiss, the underwater assisted respiration from their failed jailbreak mission, and he feels his cheeks warm up a bit.

"I'm listening to it. That's enough for me," he informs Lance, but it sparks something in Lance's eyes, something mischievous and determined, and the expression is like the bullet in his chest has melted and is dripping scorching hot down to his stomach. He grabs one of Keith's arms, trying to pull him up, and Keith twists it away. Lance pouts at him, then, and that - that does it. He's doing it now, there's no stopping him.

Keith stands suddenly, chest centimeters away from Lance's as he looks up at Lance's amused blue eyes. He grabs one of Lance's hands and slides his other arm firmly behind Lance's waist, stepping forward and holding Lance stubbornly in his arms as his feet shuffle to keep up with Keith.

"Dance," he commands, and Lance grins, following Keith's movements. The music swells in Keith's ears, and suddenly all he can see is color - the dark green of Lance's jacket, rimmed with dull orange, the startling deep blue of his eyes. He's trapped. Lance starts leading at some point - Keith fights for it as soon as he realizes, and their moment falls apart, in shambles, but for just a split second, there was a balance.

Keith aches to feel it again.

_Jenny was a friend of mine._

### i finished my paper at four this morning - i

Keith doesn’t trust his ability to keep track of how much time has passed since that first time they danced to music, but they eventually figure out that the radio channel never stays silent for much longer than five or six quintents. Sometimes it’s less, occasionally it’s a little more - there’s no pattern they can discern with certainty, but it’s generally around five or six quintents. Hunk hooked up the radio to the castle’s self-replenishing power supply so it’s always on now. The songs the people on the other end have been cycling through all sound more or less the same - like they’re the same singer.

So Keith nearly drops the fork he’s holding when the radio crackles to life just two quintents after the last song and a voice blares out, riddled with static. “...bel base..ons… bel all..nce… ear m….r.”

He stares at the small device in the corner when what he's just heard registers with a jolt, then looks up at Allura. Her eyes are wide and her mouth has fallen open in a perfect O. She blinks slowly.

“C… Coran?” she calls out in a shaky voice.

“Yes, Princess?” he answers, equally in shock. A mouse is sitting on his arm, stealing something off his plate before scurrying away across the table.

“Can you get us onto that frequency? I think someone’s trying to speak to us.”

Coran nods hollowly, but it’s Pidge who jumps up and picks up the radio, unplugging it so it switches to battery power and sprinting with it to the control room. Keith pushes back his chair and shoots to his feet as they disappear down the hallway, vaulting over the table in his hurry to follow after Pidge. Lance skids into the hallway ahead of him and they subconsciously start racing against each other, everyone else close behind them.

They rush into the control room, breathless, and Pidge sets the radio down, shushing everyone as whoever is on the other end tries again. Keith hears a bunch of consonants again, interspersed with static and cosmic interference.

“Hold on, hold on,” Pidge mutters as they and Coran fly about the control panel, pulling up the frequency and connecting.

“Hello?” Allura calls out, her voice loud and consonants clear.

“Yes!” the radio shouts back, but the rest of it crackles out.

“Coran, do what you can to fine-tune the frequency, get it clearer,” Allura commands.

“..not clear?” the voice bursts out, losing itself to static again as Coran fiddles with the panel. It bursts into sharp clarity all of a sudden, and Keith squints as he focuses on discerning the words. “-hear me. Primary Rebel Base Quasar, Blueshift Operations. Hailing the Altean Castle of Lions, do you read me. I’m just gonna keep repeating this until you’re either out of safety range or until you can hear me. God, please work - Primary Rebel Base-”

“We can hear you!” Allura interrupts, and there’s a slight smile on her lips. Keith’s heart thumps loudly in his chest.

“Oh, thank god,” the person sighs out on the other end. Then his tone changes into something cautiously hopeful. “Princess Allura of Altea?”

“That would be me. And you are?”

Massive cheering erupts on the other end of the radio, and Keith glances at Lance in disbelief. There’s awe on the boy’s face as he stares up at the wave model being graphed on the display screen, readings and numbers changing as the connection wavers in its strength.

“We’re part of Blueshift Operations from the Quasar Rebel Alliance,” the voice says proudly, and something sparks in Keith. A strange relief, and yet, the feeling that he’s part of a secret, part of something bigger than him, something larger than him - he’s. It feels amazing. “We’ve been dreaming of contacting you ever since we got news from Balmera X-95-VOX that the legend of Voltron had returned. Is it true? We thought you ought to know that we’re ready to stand with you against the Galra every step of the way.”

“It’s true,” Keith calls out, laughter bubbling up inside him, floaty and euphoric. Hunk is starting to cry. Lance’s grin is splitting Keith’s universe apart. Pidge is monitoring the wave with Coran, laughing slightly, and Allura’s eyes start shining.

They’re not alone in the war.

“Oh, man, that’s - that’s brilliant, I’m… Give me a second.” There’s some shuffling noises, and then a muffled, “Commander! We’ve made contact.” And then there’s a new voice.

“It’s a deep honor to confirm you’re alive, Princess,” says the new man. “Would you like to perhaps dock on our current planet base and talk under a little more security? I think we have some information you’d find useful.”

“It’s nice to meet you as well, but how can we be sure that we can trust you?” Lance’s entire posture droops as his mouth falls open and he stares at Allura.

“Allura!” he whispers. “It’s a rebel alliance! Are you screwing with us?”

“I’m not taking any chances,” she scowls, although she looks just about as eager as the rest of them.

“I completely understand,” the Commander says. “We’ll allow you to come in fully armed, as long as you agree not to hurt any of us. We trust you. I hope that once we can talk, you’ll feel the same about us. We’re all fighting on the same side.”

“Send us coordinates,” Pidge calls out, and after a moment they pop up on the screen. Just half a varga away at cruising speed - they’re very close.

“What’s the safety range?” Keith questions as Coran sets course.

“We take great pains to conceal ourselves from all passerby,” the Commander responds through the radio. His voice sharpens as they draw closer to the planet, picking up speed. “We don’t contact anyone no matter how close they fly to our bases, and when we do we only do it if they’re within twenty doboshes of travel at standard cruising speed. We thought we’d make an exception for you. If it’s okay, we’re going to have you dock on the surface. We have lensing set up that’ll conceal your ship from passerby, but unfortunately you’re too big for us to fit into our underground base.”

“That should be fine, but I don’t see your planet,” Allura says skeptically.

“It’s there,” the Commander assures them. “We acquired some technology from another, less inclusive rebel group a few years back. It’s fascinating-”

Pidge interrupts him. “The Blade of Marmora, you mean? They had some pretty awesome shielding technology.”

“That would be them. Are you in contact with them?”

“Oh, yeah,” Keith confirms, and Lance casts him a sidelong glance. They’ve never broached the subject between the two of them since the day Keith did the trials, and Keith isn’t sure if Lance still holds it against Keith or not. “We’ve met. They’re… pretty exclusive.”

“Understatement,” says a faint voice from the radio, followed by a faraway smack and a light, “ow.”

There’s laughter in the Commander’s voice the next time he speaks, which makes Keith like him a little more, for whatever reason. “We haven’t associated with them for quite some time now. But trust me, just keep heading straight. You’ll see it when you get close enough.”

“I’m gonna go… change,” Lance says quietly, frowning slightly at the wave model. “Gotta look cool for a first impression, you know? How many hot alien rebels do you think are waiting for us?”

“It’s not about _hot alien rebels,_ ” Keith scowls. “We have an ally in the war. Don’t you understand the bigger implications of that?”

Pidge’s voice startles them from behind as they walk back down the hallway, Allura continuing to converse with the Quasar Rebel Alliance Commander. “Am I the only one who feels like we might meet some more Alteans?” they ask. “Just in general. They were a pretty advanced race and it’s hard to believe that this Castle was the _only Altean ship_ that was away from their planet the day Zarkon destroyed it. And, I mean, from what we’ve heard from Coran, they were fighters, I don’t think any survivors would have just stood by as Zarkon took over the rest of the universe.”

Lance holds Pidge’s eye contact for a while, thinking. “Actually, you’re probably right,” he says slowly.

Pidge readjusts their glasses. “I know.” They smile, and Keith nods.

“You think some of these rebels would be Altean?” he asks.

“Well,” Lance reasons as they enter the chamber where their armor is stored. “I mean, probably not _pure_ Altean after ten thousand years, but maybe of Altean descent? By the way, as long as we’re wondering things, don’t you think it’s pretty odd that all these aliens we meet have their own alphabets and communication styles, but they can all speak English? But not any other language, like, say, Spanish.” He starts pulling on his armor, piece by piece.

Keith frowns, tightening his vambrace. “I actually… never thought about that.”

“It’s weird!” Lance cries out. “I need to ask Coran about this.”

Keith nods, frowning slightly, staring at the empty container for Shiro’s suit - the original is still missing along with its owner. It still stings in the corner of his heart a little.

Hunk joins them as they're finishing up, and little words are exchanged despite there being so much to talk about. Really, Keith stays silent because he knows they're going to have most of their current questions answered soon anyway. He focuses on his breathing, trying not to feel too excited about combining forces on the war effort.

But in reality, they're consolidating. They're lending their strengths to each other, they're taking up arms in battle as allies. _Allies._ The concept fills Keith with exhilaration, the promise of someone who has your back.

Hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know a fucking thing, my guy
> 
> make sure to like comment and subsribe!!1!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maaaaaan i tried to post this at 12 am today but i was busy being slayed by [THIS AMAZING HIGH SCHOOL KLANCE AU](https://archiveofourown.org/series/796614) and so this is at 1:30 am instead, happy veteran's day yall. and if you're not in the US, happy saturday.
> 
> So what's with the rumors flying around that s5 is coming out valentines day?

### i finished my paper at four this morning - ii

The castle lands in the middle of a desert. It really ticks Lance off for some reason - he scowls at the monitors displaying their surroundings, at the tangled metal skeletons of buildings jutting out in the distance. There's scrap lying around half buried in sand, and not a wall, a wheel, or any sign of civilization in sight. "Is this a joke?" Lance fumes, staring hard at the screens and shaking his leg back and forth. His restless energy is contagious - Keith's tapping his fingers against his seat in anxiety before he realizes.

Then two people shimmer into view, dressed head to toe in swaths of orange and cobalt blue. One has four arms and a dark grey cloak that billows in the wind, slightly shining and clearly made of a thick protective material. The other is holding a dark staff glowing with orange lines, and both have small floating white spheres hovering behind and above their shoulders. Drones, Keith assumes. He can tell immediately that they're what draw Pidge's acute attention.

The radio transmits the Commander's voice to them, loud and clear. Their hoods shadow their faces, so Keith can't tell who they're being addressed by. "We're ready for you and honored that you've decided to grace us with your company. We'll wait here for you, whenever you're ready."

"Are we going to have a formal meeting right in the middle of this wasteland?" Coran asks, one eyebrow raised, and the shoulders of the shorter figure with the staff seem to bounce with laughter.

"Our base is hidden, even from here; we're here to escort you back. All of us are eager to meet you, and while I don't mind if we talk in your Castle, I encourage you to head back with us and see what we've got going on here."

Allura frowns. "We'll talk here, and then later perhaps we can head back to meet other people of your alliance."

There's a slight pause, and then the Commander says, "Very well. I'm alright with that."

Allura nods, and after a few seconds gets up. She switches off the radio - out of the corner of his eye, Keith is fairly sure Pidge is running scans on the rebels' drones, and he's not sure if it's for safety purposes or pure uncontrollable fascination.

Allura turns to face them, and then gives them one of her heartwarming smiles. "Time to go assess whether we can trust them," she says, before leading the way out the door and toward the entrance hall. Lance is the next one to stand, after another pause, and then Hunk, and then Coran shooting him and Pidge a funny look before following.

Pidge is lost in their own world. Keith stands and walks over, peering over their shoulder at Pidge's screen, which is busy analyzing the radioactive signature of the robots. "What, added shielding to your drone as well?"

Pidge jumps, whipping their head up to face him as their cheeks color. "Yeah..." they glance down again.

"You know, if you decided you wanted to come with us, you could see them in person," Keith says softly, the edge of sarcasm just lightly brushed over his words.

Pidge laughs, swiping their hand through the screen. It buzzes out. "Yeah, yeah, okay, Keith. Whatever." They stretch and stand, and Keith straightens, a smile tugging at his lips. He falls into step next to Pidge as they head down the hall, everyone else probably at the entrance.

"...very excited to join me," they hear dully as they approach the ballroom, where Keith guesses Allura has invited the Commander and his friend to. "He refused to wait."

"I've heard so much about you, especially about your Green Paladin," says a second voice, which Keith recognizes from the radio as the person who hailed them first. "Everyone's always telling me we bear a resemblance."

"You guys know what we all look like?" Lance questions, sort of bewildered. Keith and Pidge approach the top of the stairway and Keith can see the rebels - one of them is just about his height, give or take. The one with four arms is closer to Shiro's. He keeps his eyes on them as Keith hurries down the stairs.

The shorter one chuckles a little. "Word travels so much faster in space than you'd expect, dude. I don't know your names, though? Except for you, Lance. My girlfriend told me."

"You have a girlfriend?" Lance asks, and the taller rebel places one hand on the shorter rebel's shoulder.

"Ah, I see the rest of your party is here. I trust formal introductions are in order." He reaches up with gloved hands and pulls back his hood, revealing silky silver-green hair in a thousand braids and pale gold eyes. His skin is soft powder blue, rippling into what looks like gill slits on either side of his throat. His face is structured so his mouth is small and his eyes are somewhat far apart - he's got four of them, as well. What hits Keith hard, though, is the bright blue crescent under each one. His braids are woven through with tiny silver ornaments that spiral around and thicken into a ring and single jewel near the ends of his hair, some of them brushing his shoulders and the rest of them disappearing into the cloth swept around his neck.

He's hot.

"Commander Koidra, leader of the Quasar Rebel Alliance Blueshift Operations, and eager to be your ally." He tips his head forward in respect, strands of his silver-sea green hair falling forward, brushing his pointed ears. Keith needs to stop noticing him. Isn't he the one who told Lance specifically it's not about the hot aliens?

"Are you Altean?" Keith blurts out.

"I believe some of my ancestors were." Commander Koidra gives him a wry smile. "It's truly an honor to meet you. The Alteans were a noble race."

"Oh, we're not Altean," Hunk says.

The shorter figure gasps. "Wait. Now I have to ask. Are you from Earth?"

"Yeah... how did you know?" Lance frowns.

The shorter rebel leans his staff in against his shoulder and pulls off his hood. "Man, this is so amazing. Matt Holt, communications and special ops officer, basically second in command for our Blueshift Operations."

"He likes to think he is," Commander Koidra laughs. No one reacts when Matt holds out his hand to shake.

"Matt Holt?" Allura clarifies.

"Yeah?"

"Matt Holt," Pidge whispers next to Keith, their breath of a voice coming out coarse. "You're fucking with me." The rest of them all turn so Pidge is visible to Matt, who only steps back despite being behind everyone already.

"Ah, you're the Green Paladin," Matt smiles. "I've heard about..." he trails off. All cordiality drains from his face, leaving behind grating shock. His eyes travel up and down Pidge's entire body. There's a line across the two siblings, tying them to each other, keeping them apart, uncrossable in the tension of the moment. Keith looks up across it at Lance, meeting his eyes. There's shock there, but also something stormier - betrayal, or anger, or jealousy... or something.

Keith's head feels like he's being crushed and drowned under all that water again, slowly running out of oxygen even as Lance blows breath into his lungs.

"Matt," Pidge repeats, their whisper sounding like they're on the edge of tears.

"Katie?" Matt ventures out, his voice teetering on the knife's edge between disbelief and hope.

"Katie? Really?" Commander Koidra says softly, scrutinizing Pidge more closely and looking back and forth between the two siblings.

"Oh my god," Pidge says then, their voice high and fragile. They take a step toward Matt and reach out to touch his face before Matt is suddenly surging forward and throwing his arms around them, burying his face into Pidge's hair and splitting apart at the seams to release tears and tears.

"I can't believe..." Matt says, his voice thick. Pidge clutches him tightly, their face distorted by relief and grief finally being let out. They inhale as if they're about to say something, and then give up as all their breath escapes them in a sob, eyes squeezed shut and lips pulled back in a grimace.

Commander Koidra crosses his arms and smiles wistfully. "Ever since Matt officially joined Quasar he's lived and breathed nothing other than finding you, Katie," he explains solemnly. "He's gone through every single one of our most advanced training regimes holding onto his determination to find you with the skin of his teeth." Matt finally breaks off the hug, turning to face the Commander with his arm protectively around his sister. "I think part of the reason he was so insistent on accompanying me to greet you was because he wanted to ask if you'd heard news of her."

"Why were you looking for me?" Pidge asks, peering up at Matt with a confused, tear-stricken gaze.

"That's a long story." Matt blows out a breath. "I can tell you about it as we walk back to our base, assuming you trust us now?" He looks at Allura, who's studying him with a small smile painted over her lips.

She nods after a second. "I'm sure an alliance between us can be arranged, and we're happy to receive help from you. But I want to see what you have got going on."

"Thank you, Princess." The Commander smiles at her, and Keith’s heart does _something._ He purposely averts his gaze from that silver-green hair.

“How did you know it was us?” Hunk asks.

“And the music? Is that you?” Lance interjects - he still looks a little perturbed, but he seems determined to stay civil. Keith yearns to know what the hell is bothering him.

“We’ve been tracking you as best we can since one of our special ops officers brought back news about you,” Commander Koidra says, following as Allura turns toward the entrance of the Castle again.

“God, she’s great,” Matt sighs, grinning.

“Just rumors we’ve heard. Then we started scanning for you when we suspected you might have been listening in to our radio.”

“Dude,” Matt cuts in again. “Okay. Katie, this is so awesome - they have this device that like tracks radio waves and measures interaction with them, so it can tell you if someone’s listening to your broadcast, where they are, and sometimes you get a signature of what kind of transmitter they’re using. So, since Koidra here is part Altean, he’s a huge nut for anything related to their technology, and he immediately figured out your radio was not only Altean but ancient. I really have no fucking clue how it works, but it does and we just kind of guessed. So we sent out scouts to check you guys out, and when we saw it was _the freaking Castle of Lions,_ everyone, like, totally lost their shit.”

“Everyone meaning Holt,” Koidra clarifies.

“Ah.” Matt frowns as if offended, but in a playful way. “Also, the music is me. I have Hot Fuss from The Killers and I play a song every few days because Dad and I agreed that… if anything ever happened and our main frequencies went down, in space or something… we’d like.” He glances uncomfortably at the bright doorway they're approaching, staring at the planes of sand outside. “It was sort of just a thing we did, on that frequency. It was our backup, like communications testing, and I just kind of hoped that maybe he’s out there listening to Brandon Flowers, and he can’t respond for some reason but at least he know’s I’m here and I’m still looking for him.”

Pidge tightens their arms around Matt and turns their face into him, burying it halfway into his scarf. Lance frowns. Hunk mutters something about about how he knew the music had been familiar.

“Why haven’t you played Mr. Brightside by now, then?” Lance asks. “Wasn’t that from the same album?”

“Yeah.” Matt meets Lance’s piercing blue eyes. “It’s special. I’m saving it.”

“If you’re part Altean, what else are you?” Coran asks Koidra, who smiles slightly. Keith suddenly has the jarring realization that Koidra has dimples, and he almost trips.

“I’m primarily Raidraeic. I take care not to advertise the Altean part of my lineage when I can, but for some reason your little-” he cuts himself off, pointing at his cheek and making a swinging gesture to indicate the crescents under his eyes. “They’re impossible to breed out.”

Allura nods. “I haven’t heard of a race yet that hasn’t exhibited our markings when offspring is mixed. But this means that other Alteans survived and successfully joined up arms against the Galra.” She smiles. “We’re not alone?”

He looks down. “Not nearly as many as you might be hoping for, Princess. I don't know if there even are any pure Alteans out there. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but aside from you two, I think your civilization has been lost."

"No matter," Coran says, brushing it off with a wave of his hand - he watches Allura, concerned, and Keith realizes he's only pretending it isn't a big deal for her sake. "We already knew that. Tell us about yourself, Matt. I find human culture to be fascinating. Is it true you have an entire day dedicated to corporations trying to rob your money?"

Matt frowns and his eyes fall to Pidge's face, who's suppressing a smile. "Uh, no... what the hell?"

"Every holiday ever," Keith insists.

Matt raises an eyebrow. "That's called capitalism."

"I don't care," Pidge sighs as they all step out into the glaring light outside. Koidra pauses and touches some buttons on his robot drone, and hexagons of light pulsate outward and surround the eight of them. "Now tell me why you were looking for me. I thought you would expect me to be at home with Mom."

"We should be invisible to anyone else we could encounter out here," Koidra explains when Coran leans over and asks him what he's doing.

"Where do I start?" Matt mutters. "Okay. Kerberos mission. The three of us get taken by Zarkon, and we're forced to fight and stuff. I got out of there when this other man who was with me on the mission, his name was Shiro, protected me from having to fight against an opponent who definitely would have killed me back then. I like to think that now I stand a good chance of beating him, but okay. I was supposed to fight him, but Shiro-"

"We know," Keith cut in, his voice tight. "Skip ahead in the story." He's trying very hard not to think about Shiro. He hasn't heard the name spoken aloud in so long, and hearing it suddenly without warning isn’t the kind of surprise he appreciates.

Matt looks at him, confused. "How could you kn-"

"We knew Shiro," Lance explains softly. "We heard about what he did. Just skip ahead."

Matt furrows his brows, staring hard first at Lance and then at Keith. "Okay. Whatever. So these guys-" he points to Koidra- "found me and took me in. I was transferred from Blueshift to Redshift with the rest of the prisoners they broke out, and they tried to get me to train for defense. When we break out prisoners they usually get transferred to Redshift and either join up with one of our two wings, or they're returned to their home planet on the off chance it still exists. Most join us, either because they have a bone to pick with the Galra, or because they have no home planet left. Redshift base is on a massive planet where a bunch of rebel veterans live out their days surrounded by the Alliance's protection, because they don't have anywhere else to go."

"You're getting off topic, Matt," Koidra reminds him gently. "Get back to Katie's question. We can explain the inner workings of Quasar later, when we're less in the open."

"No one is here to hear us," Matt pouts.

"Caution never goes too far."

"Okay, whatever, back to the point, then," he frowns. "So they took me back to Earth. Turns out, actually, and this is fascinating, but Earth used to be super advanced, like, forever ago, back in ancient times. We actually used to maintain communications with other people from all over the universe. I think the universal language back then had been established as Sanskrit, or something. Then Earth kind of receded back into an underdeveloped state, and most of our technology was lost. But people from outer space still kept tabs on us for a while, long enough that universal language evolved so it's pretty much the same as modern English, now."

"That's actually super fucking cool," Lance says, awe in his voice. "Also explains why that guy in the mall sold us Kaltenecker the cow."

"Right? So anyway, they took me back to Earth, and of course the first place I went was home. But by then," he frowned. "Relativity, you know? When I found Mom, I'd been missing for almost two years. And Katie had been missing for about eight or nine months." He squeezes Pidge closer. "I think I went hysterical for a bit after that. I was afraid you'd followed me out into space and gotten yourself captured by the Galra, and I just - I couldn't stand the idea." Matt pauses, frowning.

"You're not actually that far off," Pidge mutters.

"Yeah, and you're grounded for that," Matt throws out.

"You can't ground me if the ground is a billion miles away."

"Any ground will suffice. I'm not very picky about ground. So I promised Mom I'd find you and Dad and bring you back. I joined Redshift, worked hard and got promoted to Blueshift within... not very long. Time is fucked up in space."

"Matt's an exceptional soldier," Koidra confirms, and Pidge and Matt both grin in pride. Keith moves his eyes up and down Matt's body, assessing how strong he might be. The cloth obscures too much, but he holds his staff with confidence and walks like he's prepared for wherever the next moment will take him. He seems very much alive, nothing like the injured Galra prisoner he was in Keith's mind's eye for the longest time. "Blueshift definitely won't be the same without him."

"Yeah, I plan to head back to Earth after this is all over," Matt grins. "I've had enough, I think. I want to see Mom's face when we all make it back together."

"We all..?" Pidge mumbles.

"As soon as we find Dad, you know?"

Pidge looks uncomfortable. "I don't know, I kind of... have an obligation to be here, Matt. We've got to free the universe from the Galra."

"But Pidge," Lance says quietly. "It's Earth."

Keith narrows his eyes. "We can go back after we finish what we're here to do. You said you had information for us?"

"Yes, actually-"

"You know, this planet used to be a lot like Earth," Matt blurts out, cutting Commander Koidra off. "Covered in water, the most diverse climates you could imagine, a race of versatile people."

"What happened to it?" Hunk asks, looking around. Koidra glances back at Keith and smiles apologetically, his eyes saying, _later._ Keith guesses Matt is probably highly respected in the alliance, if the Commander of Blueshift - whatever that is - doesn't seem to care that he's been interrupted. He also decides Commander Koidra shouldn't smile unless he's using it as a weapon, because the number it just did on Keith's heart really ought to be reserved for only criminals and enemies.

"Apocalypse," Matt says, shrugging. "What you're looking at is a post-apocalyptic world. Atmosphere degraded enough that all life got killed off here by this endless barrage of meteors for a few centuries. And then it came back, so, here we are. I only know this because this one girl I work with is a total history nerd and she drones on and on about this shit and I really _don't care_ , but she's nice and a good soldier and pretty cool to talk to otherwise, so what the heck."

Lance frowns as he glares hard at the sand dunes that stretch out in front of them. "I don't know, I'm more into sci-fi, not dystopiaaaaaah-” Lance gasps suddenly as the sand before them shimmers and disappears, revealing stairs leading down into the ground. It’s a massive underground structure that reminds Keith of superhero movies - complete with bright lights and planes and technology and screens and people walking around with clipboards and speakers and massive ships and _he’s in love._

“Take it back?” Matt says to them, his eyes crinkling and shining in a mischievous smile above the scarf. The entrance they're looking through is only about the size of a swimming pool, tiny compared to all that Keith can see inside.

"It's just open to the air?" Allura asks skeptically.

"No, it's just open for us. The stairway itself that we're about to head down is shielded from the people you see down there. We thought you deserved privacy until you were ready to face your fans," Commander Koidra explains. Keith is hit by cool air as they approach the entrance, and the Commander taps his drone again. The ceiling shifts and closes after them as they head down, the air surprisingly fresh for being underground. Keith inhales deeply. It smells like water and wind, which contrasts drastically with the sight of metal and fluorescent lights, but he doesn't mind.

They turn left at the bottom and go through a set of double doors to a room brightly lit and painted in a soft off-white. Just a few feet away and to the right of the entrance is an L of couches facing a tv on their left, which displays just static at the moment. The rest of the room stretches and stretches ahead, the walls covered in maps of different parts of the universe and tables displaying various objects, the kind Keith expects he'd see in gift shops. There's a door at the very end. A desk is set up in front of it, with what looks like young boy sitting behind it. Keith can't tell - he has yellow skin and what might be hair is pulled away from his face and dangles in four sections down his back.

Matt breaks off from the group and heads to the couches, leaning down to the lady sitting there and pecking her swiftly on the lips. Keith recognizes the other man in the room with a start - his white hair, metal leg, nothing but strips of worn cloth wrapped around his abdomen. Matt takes a seat on the other side of the girl, easily sliding his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.

"What took you so long?" she frowns at Matt distastefully.

"Nyma?" Lance balks, his eyes and mouth wide. Keith stares, frowning as he tries to identify the twist in his gut. Is he angry? Is he jealous? Is he attracted? Is he confused?

When in doubt, anger is a good way to go.

"Hi, Lance," Nyma laughs softly. "We meet again after all. I'm really sorry about what happened."

"You tried to steal my Lion," Lance pouts, crossing his arms and turning to the side a little. His cheeks are colored, which hits Keith hard because Lance doesn't really blush much, unless a flaw or mistake of his has been pointed out. "She tied me to a _tree,_ " he stresses, but the Commander's laugh cuts him off.

"We didn't know anything about Voltron back then," Nyma says, sounding almost embarrassed.

"We all know the story here of how Nyma and Rolo came across you guys," Commander Koidra says. "It's quite famous, now, actually. Nyma is our best special-ops soldier. She was supposed to scout out Balmera X-95-VOX around the time you met, but she tends to lean a little too much to the belligerent side when it comes to sticking to orders. Rolo's one of our highly skilled pilots."

"I'm only here as a replacement for Matt," Rolo chuckles - it grates hard against Keith's memory, throwing him back to the day he stood leaning against the side of the ship watching Rolo work repairs. He still hopes he wasn't too obvious. "Matt and she are the real team."

"What can I say? I've been promoted. Sorry, Nyms."

"You should stop staying behind like a phorlin and start flying again," she sniffs.

"Love, I don't understand you when you talk about alien things I don't know about," Matt teases, and Nyma raises an eyebrow. He turns his attention to Rolo. "What are you doing, here, anyway? This is the Commander's quarters."

"This is the waiting room," Commander Koidra points out. "I'm sorry. I would introduce you, but I think everyone already knows everyone here. We have information to discuss, though, and we should keep moving if we want to get to that soon."

"Please," Allura says, a diplomatic smile painted on her face. Keith can tell she's aching to know. The Commander gestures with his head toward the back of the room, turning and leading the way through the displays.

“What is all this stuff?” Lance wonders, poking at something that looks a lot like a Newton’s Cradle.

“Trophies, treasures, it’s kind of like a museum,” Matt says passively. “It’s just supposed to look nice.” He eyes Rolo. “Can you wait outside?”

Rolo puts his hands up even as the Commander turns with a frown gracing all four eyes. “I don’t mind. I was only keeping Nyma company as we waited for you, anyway.” Keith watches him turn and leave, walk just as easy and carefree as he remembers.

The Commander casts Matt a quick disapproving glance as Nyma smirks slightly. They walk past the boy at the desk. “How’s it going, Kydo?” she calls, and the boy gives her a thumbs up, not really looking up from the screen in front of him. “He’s my cousin and Commander Koidra’s secretary,” she explains to them.

“Andromeda reports success, Galaxy U-37 is Galra free,” Kydo reports, something satisfied in his voice.

“That’s the one your mom heads, right?” Matt checks.

“That’s it.” Kydo looks up and shoots him a grin. “Knew she’d make it.”

Keith passes them and enters the next room, which is massive - displays and monitors transform the space into light and scenery of different places, logs and mission status reports scrolling and scrolling. “This is where I spend most of my time,” Commander Koidra announces before peeking back. “Are you joining us, Matt?”

Matt finishes whatever he’s saying to Kydo and enters, closing the door behind him and Nyma and crossing his arms as the Commander takes a seat at the head of a table in the center. They seat themselves around the table, Allura taking the other end.

“First of all, I’d like to congratulate you on taking down Zarkon. It’s done a lot for our alliance to know that the main figure leading the Empire for ten thousand years has been vanquished,” the Commander says. Keith lowers his eyes. It doesn’t feel like a big victory, not with Lotor seamlessly taking over control and with Shiro gone now. “I understand it must be straining to keep this up after you defeated him. We received news that Lotor has created his stronghold in a system just a couple hundred parsecs from where we are, a place that’s easy to get to by teludav.”

“You can operate teludavs?” Pidge questions.

“Just short jumps. I know ten thousand years ago only a few Alteans could use that kind of energy, but technology has advanced somewhat since then, and most of our ships are equipped with the means to travel twenty to thirty parsecs between recharging periods.”

“You were talking about Lotor,” Keith prompts, uninterested in their teludavs at the moment, and the Commander nods patiently.

“It’ll take careful planning to reach him on the planet we’ve scouted him to. We can’t be sure the information is totally accurate, but it’s the best guess we have.” He taps at the table surface in front of him and a cobalt blue hologram sparks up around them, zooming in on a solar system with twelve planets and a distinct ring that looks a little different from a typical asteroid belt. It’s smoother, like a road. A single planet orbiting just inside of it is highlighted in bright orange.

The hologram zooms into the planet, displaying valleys halfway to the core and mountains that stretch into the atmosphere.

"This is the planet Tektor," Commander Koidra explains. "The atmosphere is thin, and we believe that if our information is correct, the Galra reside mostly in structures with simulated air and gravity. It's small and doesn't have much gravitational pull to it, hence the rocky shape. Lotor is suspected to be there, but it's not as easy as wormholing into the planet's atmosphere with a frontal assault. Oxygen levels on Tektor are very low, which is a problem for the vast majority of species in our ranks. Tektorian rocks emit slight radiation which weakens many species too, but seems to align well with Galra biology. Many of us stand the chance of attaining fatal injuries if the material pierces flesh. The valleys and ravines are, to our knowledge, steep and difficult to hold ground on. We can fly through, but there is little landing space the Galra have not occupied."

The hologram then zooms out and then focuses on another planet. It's in the shape of seven slender square pyramids, floating around a burning core, equidistant from one another. Keith tries to lean closer in an effort to figure out how they're supported and connected to one another, what the gravitational field must be like. The points are so thin and extend so far out they may as well just be rods protruding from the center for miles and miles.

"This is Heptavitrine," the Commander introduces. "It is a planet that was once a central hub handling shipments, military, vacation, and cargo lines from all over the known universe. The people that live here are rich and have mastered the art of telepathic manipulation, but it only affects glass. The inner workings of the planet are all vitrescent, and it operates in simulated gravity that pulls toward the center. There were once seven sectors, each point the property of a high official."

The Commander pauses, his eyes changing - narrowing briefly...

"It was one of the first targets the Galra took. Only two points remain today, King Sector and Queen Sector, on either end of the core. Heptavitrines are allied with the Galra empire. They have a manufactured belt around the solar system, a road, of sorts. Rumor has it they once used it for games of skill, for races, and for other events, but now it's a constant military-run perimeter around the system, regularly reenforced with the most recent advancements in Galra technology. Many of the Heptavitrines drafted for military are robotically enhanced, anything from limbs to entire bodies replaced with prosthetics. Their army is sharp and hyper-aware by protocol, and they will not be easy to thwart."

The hologram fizzes out.

"They still hold the races, I've heard," Matt says lazily from next to Keith.

"It doesn't matter," Commander Koidra says rather quickly in response, and Keith suddenly gets the impression they've touched on this topic a lot. Matt huffs out a laugh.

"Our plan," Nyma cuts impatiently, drawing everyone's attention. "Is to lure Lotor out to this peak." She manipulates something on the table surface and the hologram pops up again, zooming in to a steep, particularly high peak. "We can offer up a maximum of half our pilots in this effort. We flush out the Galra and use teludav technology to weaken Lotor's offense, sending Galra soldiers to a planet system we've maintained for incarceration for years now. Your role is to overcome Heptavitrine itself, wait here for Lotor-" a small orange arrow blinks into life at the top of the peak- "and to stay there. Lotor will be forced to confront you if we hold out with enough patience, which is when it will be your job to finish him. A simple plan, but multifaceted. It'll take immense coordination on our part to lure him specifically here, and that's after we deal with Heptavitrine. After that, Lotor will be not easy to handle."

"Lotor may possess the ability to use magic," Allura says. "He's half Altean."

"That could pose a major problem," Commander Koidra frowns. "We'll have to adjust our plans accordingly."

"Use seventy five percent," Pidge says forcefully. The Commander peers at them, confused. "Don't half-ass this."

"Pidge," Allura chides.

"No, I'm dead serious. This is where Lotor is. We need to give everything we've got. I understand you don't want to throw it all away in one battle, but you have Voltron on your side and we've _never_ had enough to be cautious. It's all or nothing. So at least seventy five percent of your pilots ought to be out there with us."

The Commander studies them for a while. "I can consider it," he cedes. Nyma's head snaps to him, surprise pulling her eyes wider. "I can't promise you anything."

"No, I think they're right," Keith says, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Keith, shut it," Lance hisses, one eyebrow raised in a _what are you gaining from this_ expression. Keith jumps his eyebrows up and down once at Lance in challenge.

"We will get one shot at this. If we're wrong, the pilots will probably have no problem overwhelming the Galra forces. But if Lotor is there, we'll need manpower to overcome that kind of defense," he argues resolutely. The Commander seems to be considering his words, at least. His patience astounds Keith - he doesn't seem the least bit perturbed by his urgent outburst. It calms him. _Like Lance._

These boys will be the death of him. He needs to focus. "Again, I can consider it," the Commander decides after a moment.

Hunk meets Keith's eyes, frowns, and nods, relaying his agreement with Keith's statement, which makes him feel a little better.

"Why don't you head out into the waiting room. I'll be on my way soon, and I'll introduce you to the rest of our alliance if you'd like. We can give you the tour." Matt yawns and scrapes his chair out first, grabbing Pidge's and Nyma's hands as he pulls them out the door as soon as the words leave the Commander's lips. The rest more or less follow. Lance stops to wave a hand in front of Keith's face, but Keith swats it away, gesturing at the door with his chin. Lance leaves him, watching him for another split second. Keith remembers to make it a point to ask him what's up later, because even now he's uncharacteristically quiet. Especially considering how psyched he was back at the Castle.

The Commander has his back to Keith, scrolling through stats and reports on a screen, but he casts him a glance over his shoulder. "Yes, Red Paladin?"

"It's just Keith," Keith murmurs, quickly then wondering if it's _okay_ to ask to be referred to by first name. "Why did you stop talking to the Marm - the Blade of Marmora? How long ago was that? They never mentioned you to us."

The Commander doesn't turn to face Keith, and a silence ensues as he continues to study the scrolling text. Keith waits. After several minutes, he answers lightly, "just a difference in technique. The Blade is highly selective and a little cruel in some of their methods. We can't even be sure if they'll be an ally once the empire is dissolved, or if it will be another civil war for the universe after we're finished. We once collaborated, but I focus more on freeing people and training them, while they're only willing to accept Galra soldiers. Eventually, Kolivan and I ceased contacting one another. He doesn't know anything about Quasar now."

Keith's stomach tilts as he flashes back to the trials. Cruel? He guesses so. He certainly didn't _enjoy_ being emotionally and physically taxed to nearly his own death. _The others still don't know about that,_ he thinks. He rolls his right shoulder back subconsciously.

"Guess it's just what you've got to deal with when it comes to the Galra," the Commander continues. "They love their own race. They're beyond us, or at least they like to believe so. How did you end up contacting them?"

It feels like a piece falls out of Keith's heart. There's a dark sensitive gap left behind, and there's anger and hurt spilling out - he considers biting out, _I'm Galra,_ but decides against it. It's Allura who decided to keep Keith's lineage secret outside of their group, given that letting aliens know that Voltron's fastest, moodiest Lion is piloted by a Galra isn't very good for diplomacy. He bites down on his own teeth hard, then says, "they helped us out when we took down Zarkon." That's all that other people really need to know. Most people ask out of curiosity or politeness, and it's an answer that's enough to casually fulfill their desire and wave them away from the topic.

It works. Koidra nods, turning to the side to throw Keith a look. He smiles. "Go check out what your friends are doing. I'll be out in a minute. I need to confirm mission stats with Andromeda, it'll take a bit." He turns back to the display in silence, and Keith breathes in and out a couple times before rising from his chair. He stares at the hologram with its small orange arrow hovering over the jagged spire of rock. A deep, bitter feeling settles in his gut, rubbing him in utterly the wrong way, and then he turns and leaves.

Nyma and Matt are both on a couch closer to the entrance to Koidra's office that Keith didn't notice before, Matt with his arm around Nyma and saying something quietly to her. She's smiling and listening, but she looks up as Keith approaches.

"Keith!" Matt says. "Why the sour face, Cadet?"

"Ex-Cadet," Keith corrects darkly. He doesn’t really like his Garrison days brought up, especially out of the blue like this.

"Well, as second in command for Blueshift and one of the Garrison's top pilots - even better, now, I reckon - I hereby reinstate you as Cadet. You are no longer expelled, troublemaker. Under this new regime, we welcome rebellion and we want to hear all your input." Matt snorts. "That's why Nyma is still here."

"I honestly didn't know anything about Voltron when Rolo and I heard the Galra were offering a reward for the Lions," Nyma says earnestly. "We figured we'd help out Quasar, wipe off our record and start over with a clean slate. We get transferred to Redshift when we're too dangerous to the Alliance to keep going out on missions. So I bent the rules a little. You understand."

Keith really doesn't, but, "sure," he says.

"Rolo," Matt scowls. "He's so..." Keith notices Matt's finger dart up to rub at a pearl on a thin ring around his pinky. He grins. "Nyma says you wrecked his ship, though. I stayed behind to personally congratulate you for that. Katie and the rest are with him right now, checking out other parts of the base. I can offer to take you there.” He finishes off with a wink, which is what prevents Keith from responding right away.

… What?

Nyma frowns.

“Or, we could go somewhere else, you know? You and me? You could give me a ride in your Lion.” Matt jumps off the couch and stares expectantly at Keith as if this is a perfectly reasonable request. Keith doesn’t need this. At all. Was he wrong when he got the impression Nyma and Matt were together?

“Uh,” he manages. “I should probably just… go.”

“No, really, I insist,” he says, swinging an arm across Keith’s shoulders and turning him around, pulling him along as he strides toward the door. Nyma sighs and rises, trailing behind them. Keith stiffens, feeling like his face is on fire. Then Matt leans so his mouth is just brushing Keith’s ear and says, “help me out, play along for a bit.”

Okay? One of the floating robots rises up to hover over them and spread a cloak over them again, probably because Koidra isn’t here yet to introduce them to the rest of the Alliance. Matt leads him out the door and around the perimeter of the main room they saw before. They stop at another door on the adjacent wall, one that easily swings open. The worn doorstopper suggests that this one is used often, and when Keith enters the next room - hall - he’s forced to squint in the sudden glaring light.

It’s a massive semicircular room with another entrance on the other end of the arc. The ceiling above them pulses with blinding light that shifts colors, rippling between soft oranges and peaches and casting everything in a warm glow. The wall is choked with thousands upon thousands of pictures. Keith’s friends are spread out, looking at the images. Nyma closes the door behind them.

“Keith, come here, I’ll show you what Katie looked like before,” Matt declares. Pidge snaps their head around to look at them as Matt pulls him over toward the right side of the room, glancing back at the photo once more before following them. Keith can feel Lance’s eyes trailing him before Nyma walks up to Lance and starts talking to him, which sends a twinge of annoyance through Keith’s stomach.

“Okay, honestly, I’m only trying to make Nyms jealous,” Matt whispers as they approach the colorful wall, a grin in his voice. He points to a small picture of Pidge in a light purple dress and sitting in front of a cake, long hair reaching down to their waist and a toothy smile splitting their face apart.

“Oh,” Pidge says softly, reaching out to touch the image. It’s right next to similar photos in different formats of aliens Keith can’t even begin to recognize, but stretching above and below it is an entire line of pictures of the Holt family.

“Jealous?” he questions.

“Yeah. We’re still not… actually official, or anything of the sort, and it kind of irked me that she got to go on a pretty rainbow date with your Blue Paladin and then tied him to a tree and left-”

“Oh, me too,” Keith grumbles out, and Matt turns to look at his face.

“Really? Why’s that?”

Heat rushes to his cheeks and he looks away, despite Matt’s arm around his shoulders keeping him close. “Because… she stole a Lion.”

Matt gives an amused laugh, a little too mischievous in Keith’s opinion, and says quietly, “Okay. Whatever you say.” Keith looks back over to Pidge, who is giving him scrutinizing eye contact, one brow raised.

“What,” he snaps.

The corner of their mouth lifts. “Nothing,” they say, turning back to the photo.

“Anyway. Even now, she’s over there, _talking_ to him, smiling. So if you’re cool with this, can we just pretend we’re hitting it off really well?”

Keith really honestly doesn’t care much except for the fact that Nyma _is_ talking to Lance, and he doesn’t fully appreciate that, but before he can answer, Pidge snorts. “Oh, trust me, you two are definitely hitting it off well. If I know either of you, I know you’re the worst duo conceivable. Top of the class nerds with a passion for getting into trouble. In case you’re wondering, Keith, that’s the reason they sent my dad up with Matt when they were assigned to Kerberos.”

Keith laughs, focusing on a picture with Matt flying a kite, fighting with younger Pidge over the reel. He thinks he sees Lance look over again.

“Katie,” Matt groans, but then his face scrunches up before he can say anything, slowly inhaling. Keith steps back as Matt sneezes, rubbing his nose with his palm.

What happens next takes a few seconds to register. Nyma whirls around and holds up a gun in each hand, marching toward Matt, who groans and lifts his hands up. She moves one hand to aim at the door, flips a switch on her gun, and fires a thin blue laser at a red button in the wall, which immediately sets off the alarm. Red skitters across the glowing ceiling, flashing on and off, as Nyma sighs and points both guns back at Matt. Lance and Pidge are all screaming Nyma’s name, Allura has her staff out, Keith’s hand grows heavy as his bayard expands, and one of the doors flies open to reveal a tall alien with a tail, scaly black skin, and eight glowing electric blue eyes. He’s sliding his gun out of its holster at his belt.

“How long?” Nyma demands, and Matt winces.

“I woke up this morning with it, I swear it’s just a cold. Come on.”

“Quarantine,” growls the freaky spider-eyed alien, his tail long and whiplike with spikes forking out in nine different directions on the end. He’s wearing a black suit with cobalt blue lettering spelling out _security_ on his back and his right breast. More aliens in the same uniform start coming in through the door until the fifth one holds up a hand to tell the rest outside to stay back.

“God damn it. No one is going to die of a cold,” Matt protests.

“We don’t know that, Matt,” Nyma sniffs. “You’ll probably be out by evening, but you’ve got to go. We’re going to have to check Keith too, since you touched him, skin on skin. And I would have known if any pathogen entered my body.”

Matt groans loudly. “Okay, okay. Just get me some - uh, chemical formula C8H9NO2. God, I hate this.”

“What is that?” Lance asks, his voice nervous.

“What’s going on?” Pidge demands, the spider-eyed alien aiming his weapon at Keith, who just tightens his grip on his bayard.

“We call it acetaminophen. The Alteans called it something super complicated with three tongue clicks. The people of Kriigh call it _luvey._ ” Matt sounds bored as he turns around, escorted at gun point toward the door, one of the robot drones humming as it follows him. “As for what’s going on, your friend and I are being escorted into Quarantine. For a _cold,_ ” he spits out.

“We can’t risk diseases of any species mixing and jumping between races. It could be fatal to any of us,” Nyma says brusquely.

“ _It’s a cold._ I get one, like, every two months!”

Nyma doesn’t say anything. Spider-eyes prods Keith forward with his gun, and Keith lets his bayard shrink before following. He exchanges a glance with Allura, who seems as if she’s simultaneously appreciative of Quasar’s safety efforts and amused at the fuss over a single sneeze. Keith wonders if Alteans sneeze. He’s never really heard one before.

“When will you be back?” Hunk asks anxiously.

“Oh, I’ll be out by dinner,” Matt mutters. “Keith’ll be back sooner. Don’t worry about it. Have fun. Don’t let the Commander introduce you to everyone else and ruin my dreams. Love you, Katie!”

Keith glances back once more as he steps out of the semicircular room. This time they walk for much longer and go down an elevator into even deeper ground, enough that Keith has to shift his jaw several times to lose the pressure building on his ears.

They direct Keith and Matt through a full body scanner, Nyma watching them expectantly with crossed arms. The inspector clears Keith as free to go before leading Matt away.

"See you, Keith," Matt says, waving amiably as the inspector crosses his arm in impatience.

"You're Galra?" Nyma says quietly as they leave, watching the computer display where the inspector was just sitting. She nearly whispers it, quiet enough that Keith's the only one who can hear.

"A little," he says stiffly. She gives him a once-over before reaching forward to tap away at the screen.

"It's deleted. That's not something anyone here can know," she says.

"I know."

"I'll take you back." Nyma nods to the guards and whistles so the small white drone zooms to her side. She turns and leads the way, back through the hallway and the elevator, all the way back around the main room with the planes and to the semicircular one with the pictures. There’s a strange fading hum when they walk in, and everyone looks up.

“Hey, you ruined it,” Lance whines from his spot on the floor. Keith frowns as his eyes travel from face to face. They’re all sitting in a circle, and Pidge is hugging their knees to their chest and crying, Lance’s arm around them. “Welcome back, though. Awfully short quarantine. You sure you don’t belong there longer? It was nice and quiet without you.”

Keith sticks his tongue out at Lance, because his head is still kind of light from the pressure change and he doesn’t feel like entertaining Lance’s jabs. “What’s going on?” he asks.

“Sit down,” Allura invites, shifting to make space for him next to Hunk. He complies, but then regrets being the first to sit down as soon as Nyma lowers herself on Lance’s other side. Like, it separates Lance and Allura, but it isn’t exactly better.

The room dims, and then streams of light dip down from the ceiling in a thousand rays, creating a glowy image like surreal versions of the ones in the castle’s AI room. It takes a moment for the rays to thicken into faces and movement, but as it comes together, Keith finds himself sitting in a simply furnished living room, staring at a cake. The younger Pidge from the photo is seated in front of it, eager, face glowing in the light of the candles. Keith watches as they blow it out and their family claps and sings, Matt strolling up next to their chair and slipping a small golden box into their hands.

It’s a beautiful silver watch. Keith’s eyes trail the engravings along the dial and the chain links of the strap. They’re stars, and when Pidge flips it over, _we love you Katie_ is scripted into the back.

Keith focuses on Pidge across from the scene in Lance’s arms. They’re watching, transfixed, tears shimmering, as the scene changes to something outdoors. Matt and his father are in Garrison Uniform, Matt hugging Pidge as their mom takes a picture of them. In the background is a fuzzy scattering of light that looks like it _can_ be a rocket, but only because Keith has seen the picture countless times through Pidge’s head during their training. It pulls his empathy away from him and out to Pidge, and he wants to promise Pidge they’ll find their father, but... He really can’t. He doesn’t know if it’s a possibility or not.

God, he hopes so, though.

### let’s ride our bikes out to the arcade - i

Matt does join them for dinner. They’re sitting in the waiting room for Koidra’s office again, having taken their fill long ago of what Quasar calls the Remembrance Hall. He strides into the room unannounced, immediately kicking Rolo off the couch so he can sit down next to Keith, which causes Lance to get up as well and start walking around the artifacts from across the universe scattered about the room. Keith doesn’t get why Rolo comes in here all the time, especially seeing as he hasn’t seen anyone else other than them enter. For that matter, he doesn’t really get why Nyma comes in here all the time either.

“If you’re second in command, why are Nyma and Rolo allowed in here?” he asks.

“I’m not actually second in command,” Matt snorts. “I’m just super good at everything I do, so people listen to me, because, you know, that’s how awesome I am. Nyma’s really exceptional in the field, she’s pretty much everyone’s role model, but she doesn’t like doing the actual flying, so she almost always takes a pilot. Rolo is just dumb.”

“Rolo is one of our pilots, and as he’s my partner; we tend to spend a lot of time together,” Nyma sighs. “And anyone’s _allowed_ in here, people just tend not to hang around unless they need to look at something from the gallery, because the Commander is rather intimidating.”

“So are you,” Matt says. “And so am I.” He grins, and Nyma sighs and seems like she’s rolling her eyes, despite the fact that she has neither iris nor pupil. Keith _still_ doesn’t understand how Lance stared at those violet orbs and still felt like it was totally comfortable and natural to flirt with her. They weird him out a little.

Koidra comes out of his office, then, and smiles at them. “Ready to meet everyone?”

“It’d be our pleasure,” Allura smiles.

Koidra nods and motions toward the door with his head, turning and leading the way forward. Matt bounds up and takes the door as Koidra passes, bowing his head slightly, his eyes glittering. “After you,” he says cordially, and they file out behind Koidra.

Keith walks close behind Allura, his muscles slowly tensing up. They’re about to meet the rest of the Alliance. He’s not very good at remembering other people. He’s not very good at diplomacy, in general. He doesn’t exactly revel in attention like Lance does, and it’s not like he can distract himself with robots and machinery like Pidge. Everyone loves Hunk right off the bat, which is certainly not the case for him. He’s going to just be standing there awkwardly…

Matt catches up to walk near him, slinging an arm around Keith’s waist and pulling him closer. “Can Nyma see us?” he asks in a low voice, and Keith glances back. He briefly makes eye contact with Lance, but the other boy looks away quickly - which, huh, weird - and drags back to fall into step with Nyma. Who is, in fact, watching Matt with slightly squinted eyes. And then Lance is giving her that smirk and slipping his hand into hers and _talking to her in a low voice, Keith can only hear the faint undertones of it, and it drops low into his gut to swirl with a mix of something sickly but also something good, he doesn’t feel like eating dinner anymore…_

He turns back to face forward and scowls at Allura’s back as she chats with Koidra, leaning in closer to Matt so he can feel Matt’s orange scarf brushing against the tips of his hair. “This is really stupid,” he states, and amused laughter rolls out the back of Matt’s throat.

“I mean, you’re right.” He pauses. “But it’s also fun, and I’m like ninety percent certain it’s driving Nyma up the wall with either exasperation or jealousy.” Keith flicks his gaze over to Matt, whose amber eyes are glittering playfully. “Which is fine by me. Seriously, though, if you aren’t cool with it, no problem at all.”

Keith glances back again, noticing that Lance has distanced himself from Nyma somewhat, but that he steps closer to her as soon as Keith and he make eye contact, and _something_ about that is oddly satisfying. “It’s cool,” he answers, turning back to the front again.

“Are you talking about us?” Nyma calls up, and Matt turns so he’s walking backwards, grinning at her. Keith looks back again.

“Nah, love, we’re just discussing the menu for tonight. I’m hoping for that one Lishovian bird for the main course, side of some Quinth-prepared fruits, and if I’m lucky, something special for dessert.” He winks at Keith with that last sentence.

Keith can’t help it.

He cracks up, turning around and shaking his head.

“Yeah?” Lance challenges, sounding rather offended. “Well, I’m going to make sure _Hunk_ makes dessert, and he makes enough for everyone except for you, Keith. Right Hunk?”

“Lance, please leave me out of this,” Hunk says nervously, putting his hands up. “I am but a neutral bystander.”

“I’ll tell Fei to honor Lance’s request,” Nyma says.

“Yes! Go Fei, whoever you are!” Keith casts one more glance back to see Lance pumping the air with his fist, and turns his grin to Matt, who’s quite clearly suppressing bouts of laughter.

So it is a little fun, he guesses.

### i finished my paper at four this morning - iii

Koidra stands up from his table as the chatter in the room seems to reach a tipping point, people’s plates looking more or less clean, but no one visibly getting up to leave yet. The dining hall has a glass roof that opens up to the constellations above, and Keith has been staring at them, memorizing them, to distract himself from paying too much attention to the hundreds of eyes he can feel directed at him at any given point in time. He’s sitting two seats away from Koidra, Allura separating them, Lance on Keith’s other side. The table they’re at is on a raised platform, looking over what seem like hundreds of circular tables scattered erratically throughout the room. There’s what seems like a dance floor in one corner, which warms Keith’s heart for really no reason other than the fact that it’s _there_ and that means people _dance._

_Jenny was a friend of mine._

The room quiets as Koidra waits, standing, smiling slightly. “Good evening,” he greets. “I’m pleased to announce that Andromeda has successfully completed its mission and is currently on its way back with twelve hundred prisoners successfully rescued from the Galra.” Massive cheers erupt at that - Keith watches people throw their arms around each other, laughing, _smiling…_ “Not only that, but galaxy U-37 is now officially Galra free. We’re prepared to welcome back our heroes within the next few days.”

Keith glances over to Lance, who’s watching the cheers and loving exchanges with a bittersweet fondness in his eyes, and it calls forth memories of all his jealous looks from earlier. Because that’s what they were, Keith realizes. Lance is _jealous._ Of what, though? Does he wish he was part of Blueshift? Lance doesn’t seem like he would be jealous over anything Quasar has to offer, especially considering that they’re officially allies now. Keith still needs to ask him.

“Now, the news I’m sure you’re all _really_ here waiting for.” Koidra pauses, smiling. Keith wants to appreciate the curve of those lips, but something still really rubs him strangely about Koidra. “Allow me to introduce you, soldiers, to the Princess Allura of Altea, Voltron’s Black Paladin and pilot of the Castle of Lions.”

The cheers for Andromeda are like specks of stardust compared to the supernova that Allura elicits when she stands: pounding and clapping and stomping and screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proofreading this after watching s4 is really funny because i wrote this chapter back before s3 even came out. Oh, well. Matt is... somewhat Matt-like. Please leave comments and kudos <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rest in pieces

### jenny was a friend of mine - i

"I'm _fine..._ " but Lance's voice is weak, and then it's gone.

"Lance?" Pidge is yelling into the comms. Keith's stomach fills with icy dread. There's no reply. His cover fire is gone - he can tell because suddenly the Galra soldiers are coming in faster. He huffs out a breath, turns, and bolts through the glass hallways, holding his shield close to his body as it absorbs shot after shot. "Lance, are you there??"

"Lance," Keith pants threateningly. "Not helping."

"Our end's quieting down, should we make it over to yours?" Hunk calls through the comms. Keith wants to say no at first, but he reminds himself this is a team effort.

"If you can manage it, that would be a big help," he gets out, and it's met with a low whistle.

"Keith's growing u- oh, crap-" Hunk's voice cuts off. Keith has other things to focus on, anyway - Hunk'll be fine. He skids around a corner and immediately opts to vault over the windowsill. Suspended in the air, he digs his bayard into the glass walls before gravity can catch up to him. Keith squints against the glare a thousand times worse out here as his shoulder slams against the exterior wall.

"Lance," he tries again desperately, hanging by his bayard sticking out of the brittle wall. "A little help right about now would be greatly appreciated?" The brilliant white starlight of this system is too hot for comfort and refracts thousands of rainbows all over his skin, piercing his eyes with pure brilliance. He squeezes them shut against the color and tries his hardest to listen. The Galra are running around above him, yelling.

"We found one!" he hears, and that's when the panic sets in. "It's the Blue Paladin."

"Take him. Move out, lift the lockdown. Let's give them some time to hatch their silly plans while we examine him. With twice the bait, they'll come racing toward us twice as fast." Keith's desperation flares up and he shakes his sword a little - it fractures its way through the wall as he slips down toward the lower floor, a terrible earsplitting shattering-screeching noise forking through the air and spraying stars across the backs of his eyelids. As soon as his feet slip inside the windowsill he hooks them around the curtain rod and swings inside, pulling his sword out and cracking his eyes open to see little diamond pinpricks of rainbow falling through the air toward the glowing center of the core. The room is empty - Keith has entered just in time to see a matte door shutting behind a Galra soldier's elbow. He closes his eyes, focusing, and breathes in and out.

He imagines Lance's voice. _"Lotor is literally just across the system. Leave me and go! If you kill him, you can end this."_

 _Jenny was a friend of mine,_ he hums to himself in his head.

"Sorry, Lance," Keith mumbles out loud. "You mean too much to me." His heart twists and he throws the door open to see the face of a startled white-skinned alien, gasping as glowing dots flare a bright blue in patterns across their body. "Sorry," he mumbles gruffly before pushing forward to get to the teleporter pads in the center. He sees surprisingly very little Galra around and about - the ones who are walking through the halls seem to carry no weapon and simply appear to be normal citizens living here.

It takes him a few minutes to race through the maze of glass to the teleporter pads and get up to the highest deck, where the light is almost blinding again. He arrives just in time to see the flash of the Galra ship’s engines, probably going straight down to the Galra-controlled stronghold that makes up the lower decks. Keith falls to his knees and screams in frustration through his teeth. The Galra now have Allura _and_ Lance, and Keith needs to get in his fucking Lion.

It's this exact moment that Hunk and Pidge flash through the teleporter pads. "Keith!" Hunk says. "Where's Lance?" Oh. What's Keith gonna say?

"Is he okay? Hey, Keith? Are you okay?" Pidge grabs his shoulder and pushes him back so he fully faces them.

"Yeah, I'm-" he brings his hand up to his forehead, wiping downwards as the suit fabric wicks up his sweat. "They took him. I don't know what happened, I just heard them talking."

Before he has to explain any more, the teleporter pad flashes again. A headache starts up towards the back of Keith's head. Things are moving too fast. A white-skinned alien dotted in blue materializes, shining golden hair flowing over their shoulders. Literally shining - it looks almost like foil. Their clothes are heavy and shimmer with iridescent pink and green. Black eyes land on them and a few of the alien's blue dots start glowing in caution.

"Who are you?" They demand, voice high and tinkling like a bell. They raise their arms and suddenly the room fills with even more light - Keith sneezes at the brightness as he attempts to shield his eyes. "I'll alert commander Zidov that there are intruders-" Hunk claps a hand over their mouth.

"Please _don't_ do that. Who are you?" Hunk says warily. The alien moves his hand away and steps back, calm but still eyeing them sharply and dots still glowing. Keith really wants to touch one, but he always lets the others handle diplomacy.

"I am Queen Sirroluzhia. Who are you?" She says it like see-row-loo-zhuh.

"I was studying your planet before we got here," Pidge says, dodging the question. "But I don’t fully understand. Do you think we could sit down and talk? You can consider us sightseers."

"There is no sightseeing in the Galra empire," Queen Sirroluzhia says darkly.

"Shame," Hunk says quietly. He glances outside once more, anxiety clearly mounting higher and higher.

"But I suppose talking won't depend on whether you are sitting.” She regards them warily for another few seconds before raising her hands, her sleeves falling back. The brightness of the dotted patterns down her forearms suddenly sharpens and the glass around them shifts, seats growing out of the ground and walls. Hunk pulls Keith back into a chair next to him - Keith is frozen, unable to comprehend why they are sitting and talking instead of tearing down every damn glass triangle to find Lance. He stares down at the dull red armor over his wrists.

"What's the structure of this planet like?" Pidge asks. "Why is the core visible? Is it true all of you can manipulate glass with your own willpower? Are you born that way? How deep can you go before the Galra stronghold starts? How deep does that go? Do you guys still have access to the core of this planet? Is it true that you race around the solar system once every four years? How did you get the Galra to ally with you?"

The queen's face morphs into a sort of fond smile. Keith realizes with a start that she has two mouths - one is faint and barely noticeable. It leads to a slurry of questions he wants to ask but can't really formulate properly in his head. Besides, Pidge is the only one who can ask about everything she wants to know without being annoying.

"The entire race works together as a whole to maintain our planetary shape. The core is molten glass and we have two large glass prisms on either end along the axis. They're suspended around the core and connected to each other with fortified pillars. I manage from this tip, and our king manages from the other. Our planetary shape makes us an ideal location for spaceships to go through; docking is easy and we can monitor everything from here. We're also a people who love light, so it's the best place for ships to come in for repairs. The Galra allied with us for this reason. We have access to the core if we need it." Her face turns stern. "You're required to supply me with information of your own now."

Keith's hand goes to his bayard, but Hunk shoots him a warning stare. "That's fair, my queen," he says, and she nods.

"Explain who you are and what your purpose here is." That's it. Simple, not a single syllable wasted.

"We're just kind of space explorers," Pidge starts, and Keith frowns but Hunk squeezes his elbow. "We were passing through, I'm sorry we're in your control center. Honestly though, we were here for our own personal research, and I think your planet is fascinating. Do you think we could gain access down to your core? Just to see it."

The queen's expression turns icy, but her voice stays cordial, and Keith's on edge more than ever. "Of course. The Heptavitrine people always respect the pursuit of knowledge. But I will have my trusted guard accompany you - you understand the precautions."

"Absolutely," Hunk says, nodding. Keith frowns and glares to the side. They're wasting _time._

"What's your name?" the Queen asks, and when Keith looks up, she's looking directly at him with her piercing black gaze. It reminds Keith of insects back on Earth.

"Keith," he says quietly. He's not a good liar. He doesn't want to talk. He glances at Pidge for help, but they're not even looking at him, their eyes instead trained on the teleporter pad as it flashes and another Heptavitrine steps forward.

"Lektoeur," the Queen says. "Accompany these three explorers to our core. They wish to satisfy their curiosity."

Lektoeur nods and does a strange salute, one hand in front and one behind as he bounces once crisply on his heels. He turns his gaze to Pidge. "Follow me," he says, holding out his four-fingered hand as one leg steps back up to the teleporter pad.

Pidge takes it and links up with Keith. The pad teleports all of them to another level, this one pretty close to the bottom, and Lektoeur leads them toward an elevator. It's not made of glass, for once, and as they step inside purple lights illuminate their faces. The door closes, and Lektoeur pulls out a device.

"Lektoeur reporting from lift 2, Queen Sector. I have the remaining Paladins. Delivering them as I speak."

Keith's eyes widen. His bayard flashes and he slices upwards before it even fully forms, aiming at Lektoeur's arm, but it passes through and clangs hard against the purple wall before Lektoeur's entire body flickers and disappears.

"It was a hologram," Pidge breathes.

"This is why you don't sit and chat with the enemy while Lance is currently god knows where," Keith growls, kicking at the doors. Nothing budges. He slams his fists against the buttons on the side of the elevator, but they don't respond.

"We gained necessary intel!" Pidge argues. "We actually have a better idea of the structure of this planet now and how it works."

"Also, I read plans about their four-year race on the control panel behind her while she was talking," Hunk says, something almost like excitement in his voice. "It's true. They literally have a road of glass around the solar system - Rainbow Road is _real._ Also, you're forgetting Allura, Keith."

Okay, yes, whatever. _Lance._ How is Hunk not worried about Lance? _He's_ the childhood best friend, not Keith. Keith growls in frustration and swings his bayard into the door; it clangs off again and sends shock up his arm. He scowls at the pain.

"Keith, that’s not going to get you anywhere," Pidge mutters as they and Hunk both bend down to fiddle with the buttons. Keith angrily rubs at his elbow where the pain is pooling between bones and glares _everywhere._

"Wherever we're going," Keith swears darkly, "I'm not stopping until every one of them is defeated."

As if on cue, the door opens and Pidge and Hunk jump up from their crouch on the ground. Keith's shield flashes to life as he instinctively ducks behind it, a split second before the shooting starts. Hunk swears as a beam glances off his shoulder, singing his suit somewhat and probably bruising him. He clutches it and turns so he's behind Pidge's shield, his other hand gripping his bayard.

The shooting isn't about to stop any time soon, so Keith charges out behind his shield, cutting down the first Galra robot. There are two druids at the head of the room, floating and watching him as he moves quickly and takes out the second. One raises its arm toward him, and he swings a third robot in front of him to absorb the blast. A laser hits him in the left side and throws him to the floor, his stomach muscles clenching monstrously tight against the wound. He winces. The suit protects his skin, but he's bruised deep. The sound of the other two fighting brings him to stand again.

He rushes the druids straight, holding up his shield as he cuts through whatever he can to get there. " _Where are they?_ " he yells as he brings his sword down over the head of one - it disappears and reappears behind him. Keith _hates_ how they do that. He turns around only for something to explode against his back and blast him to the floor again. He rolls for a good ten seconds before stopping, and when he tries to get up, his muscles constrict against him and refuse to work. He's being careless. He hisses against the burning on his back, the feeling of energy being drained out of him.

"Keith!" Hunk. Hunk's voice. "Are you okay?" Something cold and solid wraps around his arm, pulling him up, and he somehow manages to find the strength to bring his elbow up and smash it into the robot's face. It doesn't do anything, and he struggles to break its hold on him - then a bright yellow beam vaporizes half of its body and he's free, falling to the ground with its smoking metal on top of him. Keith pushes it off and struggles back to his feet.

"Careful, Keith!" Pidge warns. They're next to him, protecting his right side, and he turns so he's back to back with them.

"You got it," he mutters, facing the remaining druid. The other one is nowhere to be seen - he assumes either Pidge or Hunk took care of it. He cuts down another Galra robot and stays where he is, waiting for the druid to make a move. It aims at Pidge, but Keith sees Hunk moving to intercept its blast. He runs forward and slices up right as the druid fires, Hunk's shield absorbing the blast as Keith cuts through the druid's purple robe. It evaporates with a hiss and a release of black energy, and Keith's almost hit with another laser from the nearest robot before he's able to shield himself. He swings out blindly, feeling his bayard connect satisfyingly with something metal and cutting through. When he glances up again, Pidge and Hunk are the only other ones standing, their breathing heavy and eyes on the disemboweled robots littered around them.

"We have to find Lance," Keith shudders out, his breathing heavy and his back bruised and screaming. "We have to - let's go." He turns and drags himself toward the door, bayard held in a vice grip at his side as his muscles tense against his will. Everything _hurts._

He squints his eyes. _Come on, Red._ He feels her comforting waves of heat in his mind as he steps forward in the dark, listening hard. There are heavy, monotone footsteps in the dark - another group of robots, maybe. He rolls his shoulders as he prepares himself for another fight. _Talk to me._

She purrs in his mind, responding, pushing up with affection - he ignores it, his mind set on one goal. _I know you don't have a bond with Lance, but Blue does, and I know you can talk to her._ He feels her slight disappointment that he's not looking for her right now, and then the sparks of stubbornness.

Well. He'll just have to be stubborner.

The robots round a corner and start shooting - Keith's shield flashes up to protect him. "I've got this," Hunk mutters, his bayard charging up behind his shield. "Wait this one out. 5... 4...."

 _Red,_ Keith insists. _I'm not coming back until we get Lance out of here._ Red shares an image with him of Blue, sitting in her hangar, eyes dim, body unmoving.

"2..."

"What the hell's she doing back at the Castle?" Keith grumbles, and Pidge shoots him a confused look. He catches their raised eyebrow just before Hunk's bayard explodes into rays of light, soaring forward and spearing through the robots.

"Why do they keep sending robots?" Pidge mumbles. "It’s never worked before."

"Don't say that out loud, they'll hear you and make it harder," Keith mutters, furrowing his eyebrows again and concentrating. Red doesn't want to cooperate with him. He tries threatening her again, but all he gets back is this feeling of smugness. "I'm tearing this place down," he declares in a low voice, and Hunk whistles.

"Cool it, Keith. Lance can handle this," Pidge says, tone cautious. "Look, we need to think through things. I don't think the structure of this place is all that different from most of their ships, which means we need to head left up ahead. We'll start there and work around as we search. Better plan than destroying the base of half the entire planet?"

Keith huffs out a breath. It _is,_ but he doesn't have to say it. He pushes for Red's help again and she sends him a burst of annoyance along with the information that Blue is powered off. Completely. _What the fuck._ He follows behind Pidge as they run ahead, turning left and prepared to fight his way through the next round of robots the Galra send after them.

They find Allura first - mostly because of the screaming. It turns Keith's blood to lead as the voice tears through the hall, a shrieking that transcends all sounds he's ever heard from any human mouth. It cuts short abruptly and then starts again ten seconds later, and he winces, his heart thrashing against his ribcage. All he can picture is the same sounds but coming out of Lance's mouth-

"The Paladins of Voltron," muses a smooth, butter-cream voice behind them, and Keith swings around to find himself face to face with who can only be Commander Zidov. He reminds Keith of pictures of dragons from storybooks, and the harsh glowing yellow eyes send shivers down his spine in the worst way. "Welcome to Heptavitrine. I don't believe we've met before." Pidge raises their bayard and attacks, but he moves unnaturally fast and grabs their arm from the side, twisting it behind them and slamming them into the wall as Keith lifts his bayard before stopping short. Pidge winces and cries out briefly in pain. "But then again, you're not quite the kind of people who need an introduction." He raises his blaster casually, aiming straight at Keith's throat.

Hunk shifts his grip on his bayard. "We're here for Princess Allura and Lance." Keith's heart beats fearfully in his chest as something cold prods at the back of his head. He doesn't need to turn around.

"I'm aware." Zidov glides over the words. "Your Blue Paladin is a clever one, and your Princess is mentally stronger than she looks. But we've never encountered someone we can't crack." Keith grits his teeth. Zidov signals with his chin to whoever is behind Keith, and hands pull his wrists back, locking them in weighty metal. _Red,_ he pleads, but he can sense her pissy mood at the moment. _I've made a mistake,_ he mentally sighs, and that gets her attention and her concern.

The slight widening of Commander Zidov's eyes is the only warning he has, and he instinctively ducks, shooting out one leg to hook around Hunk's and bring him to the floor. It isn't Red's fire, like he expects, though; instead, it's seven robots, limbs entangled together, shooting through the air, aimed at Zidov and crackling with lilac-white lightning. The bodies bury him and Pidge falls to their knees, rolling their shoulder before standing and rushing over to cut Hunk and Keith free. Keith immediately grabs his bayard and turns, Allura meeting his eyes. Her hair is in a complete mess and she's taking deep, ragged breaths; her clothes and face are both caked with grime, her skin stretched wan and thin. Keith's stomach clenches as he takes in the damage - all this after just a few days away. It wasn't like this last time Allura was taken, all that time ago when Zarkon was in command. Rather than armor, she's wearing typical Galra prisoner garb.

She locks a deadly glare onto Keith and stares him down for a few seconds, eyes dark and flashing with a kind of animal determination. Then, in a quiet, tortured voice, she says, "run."

Keith scrambles to his feet, but before he can follow after Pidge, a purple beam tears through the pile of robot parts and strikes Allura in the middle of her stomach. The light blinds Keith, and his only perception of what's happening for a second is sound - her shriek of pain, the sound of objects hitting each other. When his vision clears, Allura is lying unconscious on top of two other broken robots, rough purple fabric pulling up her blood as the liquid starts to pool underneath her.

Keith feels like he's hit physically by the shock. Breath freezes in his lungs, his very pulse stopping as everything goes absolutely still. He's in his own little corner of the world, at the end of all senses and beyond the definition of far. Processing has shut down. He's the shell of a starship, floating in space with no engine - frictionless, but stationary. And then the words that will save him worm their way into his mind - _she's not dead._ Better. Obviously she isn't dead. Alteans are more adaptable than humans and the blood is pooling rather than rushing - there is no way Zidov has hit any kind of major organ.

The thought restarts Keith's brain and he activates his shield to protect himself as Zidov clambers out of the mess of robot parts. Hunk's scooping the Princess into his arms - Keith can't hear much through the cotton of shock in the air, but it's clear to him now. The only way out now is to kill Zidov. Fine. He'll do it. He's doing it. He takes a single, shaky step forward - Allura is fine, now they can just get Lance and go.

An intercom crackles on in the hallway. "Commander Zidov." He tightens his grip on his bayard, preparing to lower his shield and charge. "The Blue Paladin-" Keith stills completely, as does Zidov, the two of them lost in their own yearning determination to discern the next syllables without flaw, "-remains unresponsive. Commence with the next phase?" Keith glances once at Pidge and Hunk, who are working busily to staunch Allura's bleeding. She needs to get to a healing pod _now._

"Proceed," Zidov calls out, turning his head back to level his eyes with Keith's. The same shudder crosses his spine again, a single chill that ripples across each vertebra as he glares straight back at Zidov's yellow eyes. He wastes no time, dropping his shield as he sprints to meet Zidov, who just barely manages lifting up his blaster in time to deflect Keith's blow from the side. He _will_ find Lance.

"Why keep fighting?" Zidov grins. "He may have taken extreme measures to keep the Lion out of our hands, but the one thing he can not control is that he is here with us. And as long as that is true, I don't think the rest of you are going anywhere."

Keith's mind scrambles to figure out what Zidov is saying. What extreme measures? Why is Blue powered off? ‘Remains unresponsive’? What has Lance done?

"Well," Keith responds, stumbling as Zidov swings his blaster around and connects with his bayard at an awkward angle. "It won't be true for much longer." He makes eye contact with Hunk, who has been charging up his bayard next to Allura, and nods. Hunk's lips quirk up into a smile as Keith dives behind the robots - Zidov realizes quickly what's happening, but before he can turn around, the hall explodes with yellow light. The full power of Hunk's bayard hits Zidov head on, and his body goes flying as Keith shrinks against the floor.

He springs up as soon as the light fades away, not bothering to check on Zidov and make sure he's really gone - if he finds Lance, he can get out of here fast, and Allura needs help.

It's thirteen doors down, and when he _finally_ opens an occupied room, he feels like weeping with relief. Lance is held up to an upright table, hands and neck bolted in place against it with rings of purple metal. His heart drops low with ice at the sight - they've already done something to him, because his skin is deathly pale as it never should be and his eyes are ringed with exhaustion. He slides out his luxite blade and lets it expand, thrusting it into the metal at Lance's hands. _This is how Thace escaped,_ he thinks to himself, and feels an almost nostalgic twinge in his throat.

Lance slumps forward as soon as he's free, and Keith struggles to hold him up. "Lance!" he snaps into Lance's face, hoping against hope to maybe wake him from whatever drug-induced sleep... "Lance, we need you. Right now."

"Keith!" Pidge yells. "Did you find him? Allura's not getting any better here."

Keith pulls Lance to his body, hooking his arms under his knees and shoulders and lifting him up so his head lolls onto Keith's shoulder. "Coming," he calls back, wincing at the shooting pain down his spine at every step. "Red," he gasps out loud, and she responds immediately in his mind, growling softly and coming to life. "Let's go."

The shrieking of metal tears the air apart around him as he carries Lance out of the room to where Hunk and Pidge are waiting with Allura. The end of the hallway starts to glow a little, their only warning before it explodes and reveals Red's slowly opening maw. Pidge slaps their bloodied palm against their head in exasperation before reactivating their bayard and leading the way forward, Hunk following and Keith after them both. He sets Lance down gently inside Red's mouth with the rest and then bolts up to his pilot's seat, working the controls as fast as he can to get them out of there. The hole Red blasted to get this deep inside the Galra stronghold is already slowly closing over with thin sheets of glass - Keith picks up speed and shatters through them as Red launches into the atmosphere outside.

### someone who, above all else, you kind of fall in love with - ii

The first feeling Keith is aware of is that he’s cold. Frigid air is moving around him, his stomach dipping, as he falls forward - he stumbles to catch himself, hands flying out and finding nothing. His knees hit the floor hard and his eyes fly open as the jarring sensation ripples up his legs and spine. A spine that, if memory serves, should be hurting a lot more, but simply _isn’t_. He brings one hand up to his side, feeling the tender flesh there - it’s not. There. He furrows his brows. Where is he? He went to sleep in his room in the Castle earlier, drained, exhausted, sick with worry but with not nearly enough energy to pick himself up off the stiff cot.

“Keith?” It’s a sleepy, tired voice. Kind of thick. Keith sits back with his legs under him, trying to blink away the dizziness. There’s a figure bending down to him, hands reaching forward and falling down on Keith’s shoulders, face tilting to try to catch Keith’s eyes. Keith focuses in on the jacket, the hair, the blue eyes.

“Lance,” he notes, recognition warming up his brain a little, and he gets a slight smile in return. Lance’s eyes are ringed with red and deep shadows run like rivers underneath.

“Hey, man, glad to see you’re alive, holy shit.” Lance pulls him in closer, his warmth seeping into Keith’s bones as his arms wrap around him. Keith shivers against him involuntarily, leaning his face into Lance’s shoulder and inhaling the air. It’s getting warmer. “You’ve been in that pod for, like, fifteen vargas.”

“Pod..?” Keith looks back at the sleek, looming oval behind him, the surface recrystallizing as it starts to seal itself and sink back into the floor. He glances at his arms, skin-tight white sleeves reaching down to cover his wrists. It’s definitely the suit worn in the pod. “When did I… I’m pretty sure I went to sleep in my room.”

“Yeah,” Lance says icily, pulling back and giving Keith’s shoulder a light shove. “You can’t do that, idiot. I came out of the pod like, in half a varga, and thought I’d go check on you to make sure you didn’t have too much trouble handling yourself without my awesome cover. But instead I find a stone-cold emo boy lying in bed with his armor on. What the hell, Keith? Everyone was so worried.” Lance crosses his arms and frowns, and Keith can’t help it - he laughs. “Yo, dude. That’s not. That’s not funny, what _kind_ of humor…”

“Sorry,” Keith gets out. “Half a varga? What happened back there?" His memories come rushing back with a gap of worry and he's suddenly angrier. "You were out cold, Lance, the Galra had you, I tried to talk to you but you wouldn’t fucking _respond_ and then apparently Blue was powered off, you just disappeared and the last thing I ever would have heard from your stupid mouth would have been ‘I’m fine’ - and that’s so fucking daft. What is your problem?” He glares at the boy just a hand’s breadth away from him.

Lance makes a face. “Jeez, sorry. I had a concussion, that’s it. I’ve told Blue not to respond unless it’s me, willingly, trying to wake her up, because I figured if I ever get captured on a Galra mission, since, I mean, if it’s gonna be anyone, it’s gonna be me-” he says it with a hollow laugh, and Keith frowns- “I don’t want her falling into their hands again.”

“Why do you think that?” Keith asks.

Lance rolls his eyes. “Uh, hello? Because she’s one fifth of Voltron? Are you sure you’re fully healed yet?”

“Shut up.” Keith scowls. “Why would it be you, if anyone?”

Lance raises an eyebrow in response. “Because I’m awesome and all the Galra want me?”

“Ugh.” Keith snarls at the ground in disgust, because of _course,_ why would he expect a straight answer from this boy. “Whatever. Don’t ever hide a concussion from us again, you idiot, we could have all died.”

Lance grins at him. “Sorry. Again, apparently, since one isn't enough for you, I guess?”

“And why would you think I was dead? I was breathing, wasn’t I?” Keith adds, honestly touched at Lance’s caring.

Lance’s gaze lowers and he stares at his hand, just a few centimeters from Keith’s. His thumb rubs against the side of his pointer finger in nervousness. “Well, so… these pods have healing capabilities.”

“No shit,” Keith offers, when Lance falls silent as if that explains everything.

“Yeah. So. They also kind of have life support, as in, you could be dead and they’d still keep your body going. I don’t know how it works.” Lance looks uncomfortable, and Keith notices again how bloodshot his eyes are.

“Did you sleep?”

“Not really.”

“That worried about me?”

“Duh.”

Keith huffs out a breath in laughter, closing his eyes and tipping his head forward so his forehead rests on Lance’s shoulder. He likes moments like this, when Lance and he aren’t really fighting. Maybe if he risks his life a little more. He likes seeing Lance’s raw concern. It spreads something warm in his heart. “Where’s Allura?” he asks.

Lance doesn’t respond.

“Lance?”

There’s some more silence, and then, “Yeah, so…”

Keith opens his eyes, staring into Lance’s muddy green sleeve, too close to be able to focus on it. Keith remembers the planet Lance got this one from - it has blue trees. It's a blur in front of his face as dread drips into his stomach.

“That’s kind of how we found out the pods function as life support too.” Lance’s shoulders jump with what feels like a hiccup.

There’s nothing for a minute, and then Keith registers what it means, jumps the gap between explicit and implied, makes the connection. His synapses short circuit.

_Breath freezes in his lungs, his very pulse stopping as everything goes absolutely still. He's in his own little corner of the world, at the end of all senses and beyond the definition of far. Processing has shut down. He's the shell of a starship, floating in space with no engine - frictionless, but stationary._

Keith lifts his face away from Lance’s shoulder to meet his eyes, and he stares back, dark blue shining with moisture. “You’re - that’s - joking, you’re joking,” Keith chokes out, his throat tight as he struggles to believe it. “There’s no way.” Allura? King Alfor’s daughter, the Princess Allura of Altea? Born ten thousand years ago, the Black Paladin of Voltron? “You’re wrong.”

Lance is shaking his head, pouting, bringing his hands up to Keith’s shoulders again, one drifting up to the nape of his neck. Keith rocks back against it, head spinning, mind reeling, brain dizzy with confusion. “The funeral is in a week,” Lance says quietly, his voice constrained and his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat.

Keith reaches out a finger and traces the edge of it, feeling Lance’s throat move as he struggles to keep his voice steady. “It’s my fault.” The words spring from Keith’s lips automatically, because he knows - he’s sure - if he hadn’t focused so much on Lance - he should have protected her, he’s a terrible Paladin - he should be getting up and training to make up for the day he’s lost in the pod instead of sitting here under the warm warm hands of this magnetic boy. He should have been better - he needs to be better. He will be better. From now, starting now, he’s going to train more, he’s going to make sure it _never happens again-_

Keith lifts one hand up and clamps it over his mouth before he can let any noise escape, the finger on Lance’s throat trailing down as his palm falls and uses Lance’s shoulder to anchor himself to reality.

### takeout is better when you're broke and there are leftovers in the fridge - iii

"Keith, we need to discuss-"

Keith whirls on Koidra and slams his open palm into his throat, forcing him back. Matt shoots to his feet, staff already in hand and raised slightly, ready - Lance's quick exhale shears through the air, his hands coming up as his lips pinch together to form the beginning of " _whoa, Keith-_ "

Keith is shaking. "No," is all he shudders out, glaring into - into - God, _fuck,_ he hates this Raidraeic thing with four eyes. Nyma's stepping forward out of the corner of his eye, gun drifting up to aim at his neck. He closes his eyes. One shot. _Take it,_ he dares her, his own command echoing around the ice in his head.

Lance's fingers curl around Keith's shoulders from the back, gently pulling him away from the Commander. Keith lets him, breaths blowing through his teeth hot and heavy, the ice melting, catching fire - what. What are they going to _do_ now. His eyes prickle again, and he turns away, furiously stalking down the hallway, jerking his shoulders away from Lance's pull. He needs space. He needs air. He thunders through the Castle, its stillness suffocating him - Lance is shouting after him and following, but he's ignoring it. He refuses to let this be all, it can't be all. He had about 5 seconds of calm and shock and sitting across from Lance before the anger set in. And now - now he doesn't know what he's doing, but he sure as hell doesn't care to figure it out.

"Keith, don't step outside that door, there's a _storm!_ " Lance grabs him by the wrist and yanks him back. Keith falters, whirling around to face Lance.

"I grew up in a desert!" he growls.

"Shut up and listen to me!" Lance yells in his face, too close, too upset, too loud, too _wet_ \- there are tears streaming down his face. He looks.. distressed. Keith guesses. Well. Perhaps a little more than just that.

Keith can't figure it out. All emotion escapes him suddenly - all he knows is he needs _out,_ and he needs to _train._ He turns back around.

Lance actually fucking _pulls his hair._ Keith's scalp bursts into screaming as Lance's fingers claw into his locks and clench tight, and his arm whips out, finding purchase against nothing but the edge of Lances jacket. He grunts, stumbling back until he falls on his ass. He flips over to find himself staring straight into Lance's eyes - he's fallen as well, and Keith is on his leg. They're both panting like they've run a mile.

"Look out - the damn - window," Lance huffs, and Keith flicks his gaze outside to see nothing but swirling sand. It forces him to pause, think - he can't leave the Castle, not yet, anyway. He dips his head lower and pulls his eyebrows in, only to hear - "glaring at it isn't going to make it vanish," in an exasperated hiss.

Keith picks himself up and heads in the opposite direction, back the way they came. The training deck isn't far from here. There. That's where he'll go. That's where he'll throw around some of his energy, that's where he'll be, making sure _nothing like this ever happens again._

He thinks Lance is following him still.

Ignore.

Block out.

Shut. Himself. Away.

Keep walking - don't listen. Listening means wasting time means being late means mistakes means. Means. Means he needs more control over the situation. Because he's going to keep fighting until he breathes his last.

When did he get here? He stares at the gladiator in front of him, looks back at Lance standing at the edge of the room warily, looks down at the bayard in his hand. This is what it feels like when reality blurs.

"Keith, you just came out of the healing pod-"

"Start training sequence twenty three," he bites out.

Lance makes a choking sound. The gladiator moves. A female voice calls out, "clear training sequence twenty two to disable safety lock." There's a few seconds' pause, and then the words, "safety engaged. Begin." And then the pale blue sword is passing clean through Keith, diagonally from head to his left foot. Just like that. He'd be cut clean open if the safety was off. He blinks. No, no he can't accept that -

"Repeat," he commands, and this time he blocks the swing - as soon as he raises his arms, a kick from the gladiator blows open his side and sends him flying back, stomach collapsing in on himself as gravity lets go and the force of contact rips the air from his lungs.

He collides with the wall and slumps down, eyes widening as the pale blue sword swings in his direction, this time easily flying through his neck. The gladiator stills, its holographic sword passing through Keith's throat. He groans and presses a hand to his side, where the suit is cut and there's something stinging and wet - wow. Damn. Holy fuck.

Keith gasps in both surprise and in pain as he realizes he's actually bleeding.

He growls in frustration and tries to rise to his feet again, biting down a scream as his ribs explode with lightning. It takes him a second to recompose himself, trying to mentally numb away the pain and focus on getting this right. "Repeat," he groans, but before he's even finished saying the word, a blinding beam of blue streaks through what he can see of the world. What's left as it fades away is the smoking remains of what used to be a gladiator.

"Training sequence twenty three complete," the training room's disembodied voice echoes.

"End training sequence," Lance says coldly, lowering his bayard as it shrinks back.

Keith squeezes his eyes and falls to his knees - that's when the sobs finally rip free of the tight little strings that confine his chest. He screams into the empty white of the training deck, tears rolling full and heavy off his cheeks and trailing down his neck. "It's my fault," he gasps out.

"No," Lance says gently, kneeling down in front of Keith, but Keith lifts his hand and shoves away whatever part of Lance he's made contact with in front of him. He refuses to open his eyes. If he does, he'll see Lance, he'll see something probably like sympathy, and he can't. He can't see that right now.

"It's my fault!" he howls, actually beating his fists into the ground, because _god,_ all hope is physically being squeezed out of his heart and it fucking _hurts._ He brings one hand up to his chest and curls the fingers, nails scraping against the slick surface of this suit that's supposed to heal a man. But he feels broken.

"No, Keith," Lance repeats, and Keith crumples into himself. Lance's hands are on his shoulders again.

"I shouldn't have focused so much on getting you out, I should have stuck to the plan. I should have taken her to a pod. I should have - oh, god, I..." he hiccups and his throat constricts painfully, sore and burning from all the tears he's been choking back until now. Lance's thumbs are drawing over his cheeks, pushing the water away, but what's the point; more just keeps flowing down to take its place.

"Keith. I was being a dumbass. If it's anyone's, it's mine, and even then, it really isn't mine. It could be Pidge's, for not doing a better job in the moment. It could be Hunk's, for not blowing Zidov to smithereens when he had the chance. It could be Allura's for pulling a stunt like that in the first place. But it's not, okay?"

Keith can barely hear him. His ears are ringing.

"It's the fault of the Galra empire. Okay? And we're going to take it down. Soon."

"What the fuck, Lance," Keith chokes out. "We don't have a Black Paladin."

"You're our Black Paladin," Lance says, smoothly - so nonchalant, so soft, that Keith doesn't even process it at first. When he does, he sparks away from Lance's warm hands like they're scalding hot - his eyes fly open and wide as he focuses on Lance's face and the room dips. The skin is splotched with red. His eyes are bloodshot. Dark rivers of exhaustion course under them. A little grounding, but at the same time -

"You know how I feel about that," he says quietly, trembling as he grinds it out.

Lance's eyes are set in stone - rock solid reassurance. Blue crystals. Geodes. Earth science was never a strong subject for Keith, but god, does he wish he'd maybe followed that instead of choosing to launch himself into intergalactic war.

With war comes loss, how could he have been so fucking stupid. Keith's head spins.

"I'm not piloting the Bl-"

"Don't think too much about it right now," Lance says quietly, raking one hand through Keith's hair and keeping the other on his shoulder. Keith rocks forward into the touch, letting Lance's warmth connect him to reality, because he's dizzy with guilt. "You realize, right, that now you've got to go back in the pod?"

"No," Keith scowls. "I don't."

"Relax, you'll be out in, like, ten doboshes, or something. But you're, uh. Losing a lot of blood down there."

Keith moves his hand away from his side and brings it up to his face, tilting his head curiously at the slick red coating. That's why the room is spinning, then. He closes his eyes, but all he can see when he does is Allura's face before lasers split through her stomach - glacier blue determination in her eyes.

How old even was she? Keith always thought she was twenty two, or something. Even after all the time they've spent in space, she never seemed to age, but still...

Much too young.

They're all. They're all too young.

Another sob scrapes through his rigid throat, the muscles jumping as he fights to control it.

"Shh," Lance whispers.

Whatever Lance says....

The whiteness around him dims until all he can see is the Prussian blue of Lance's eyes.

Whatever Lance says.

Keith knows.

It's his fault.

Whatever Lance says, it is and it always will be Keith's fault.

### jenny was a friend of mine - ii

It's fifteen doboshes, and Lance is waiting for Keith with Keith's old track jacket when he comes out of the pod again. Keith's silent as Lance slips it over his shoulders, pulling Keith along with him as he heads toward the dining hall. He eats the food Lance puts in front of him numbly, tasting nothing but cotton and metal. He should train.

Lance keeps talking to him. Pidge comes in with Matt, sits down next to Keith. Hugs him at one point. Keith just lowers his eyes into his lap and forces the tears back again, letting an arm come up around Pidge as they sob into the red of his old jacket. It's dirty and frayed at every edge - Keith doesn't even know where Lance dug this shit up from. It has to have been in the very back of his closet. There are still stains on it from that food fight from years ago. Has it been years? Maybe just months. Keith feels jaded enough that it might as well have been lifetimes.

He knows, now, how weary Shiro felt.

Because first he lost Shiro, then Allura, and it's too much.

Just...

Just too much.

Hunk replaces the food in front of all of them with some delicacy. One from the fridge, because Keith recognizes it from a few days ago. Of course. It's not like even Hunk can be cooking now. Coran goes around to each of them, making sure they're okay - but he just doesn't want to feel alone. He's worse off than Keith. He's crying nonstop, mustache damp, and he collapses into the chair at the end of their row, staring at the empty seat at the head of the table for maybe half a tick before the downpour breaks open again.

The storm settles down the next day. Longer than any sandstorm Keith witnessed back home, but then this isn't home. Far from it. Their entire castle is a reminder of that, every hallway echoing with the whispering ghosts of one of the strongest races in the universe; everyone here is lost and stuck defending the intangible. They're all awoken in the morning at dawn when the Black Lion's roar pierces the air, shredding through their solace.

"She's grieving," Coran says thickly, coming to stand next to Keith where he holds vigil at one of the Castle's protected balconies. Keith watches the Lion crouched near the entrance of the Castle, barring the gate from the swarming cluster of rebels trying to get in.

Keith frowns. "What's going on?" he mumbles.

"Haven't the faintest notion," Coran whispers, reaching up to rub at his bloodshot eyes. Keith turns, heading toward the chamber he knows Koidra uses when he stays at the castle.

He doesn't waste time on knocking, just physically pushes apart the sliding doors. "What's going on?" he demands, face automatically settling into a glare.

"People are coming to pay their respects," Koidra says kindly, turning to face Keith and getting up from his chair to bow his head a little in respect. Keith doesn't return the gesture.

"Why do they know," he growls out, not phrasing it like a question at all.

"Her name was in the morning obituaries," Koidra says quietly. "You should have seen how many were here yesterday while you were in the healing pod. People here now were either unable to come then, or are returning in the hopes of having good seats for whatever speech you plan to give them as her successor."

"What speech?" Keith snaps. The same eyes he'd been enchanted by once, oh, how he despises them now. "It's your plan that got Allura killed. Why don't you talk to them about that?" He ignores what Koidra just said about being Allura's successor.

"Please, Keith," Koidra reasons. "They all knew what they were signing up for. This was a possibility we all considered, and that's why we can't follow the naive strategic advice from your Green Paladin. You act as if the Altean princess was the only one who gave her life in the fight."

"Pidge is not naive," Keith spits out. "Pidge is smarter than any of your technicians or strategists could ever dream of being. Hunk is the best engineer out of everyone in this shitty alliance, and Lance is the only pilot in the universe who can fly through a pinhole gap without so much as scratching a wing. Don't ever diss my Paladins in front of my face again." He fumes in silence for another half second, trying to collect his thoughts.

"Spoken like a true Black Paladin."

"Tell them to leave. Why was her name in the obituaries?"

"We let people know exactly what's happening," Koidra replies smoothly. "We don't keep the rest of Blueshift in the dark about what decisions are made between their commanding officers, and the consequences of those decisions. If we lose Andromeda, Carina, Lirkuie, and Kkom in a single battle, four of our most powerful battleships, they deserve to know their options, their odds, and the fate of their friends. We honor our heroes."

"Shut up." Keith cuts off Koidra's preaching with a flick of his hair, flinging his bangs away from his eyes in a quick snap of his head. "Just shut up. Tell them to leave. There's no show here." Keith whirls around to leave before turning back as he steps one leg over the threshold. "And I'm not your _fucking_ Black Paladin," he hisses out, pretending he doesn't hear Koidra's next comment.

"Lance says otherwise," Koidra's voice wafts out, drifting softly pass the hissing of the door as it closes.

It hits Keith hard in the heart with anger and despair.

### takeout is better when you're broke and there are leftovers in the fridge - iv

The entire next day finds Keith in the training room. He fights the gladiator, collapses in exhaustion, wakes a few hours later, sits through mental combat exercises with a modification Hunk once made to the group mind exercise, falls asleep again, goes against the gladiator, two gladiators, three gladiators - gets knocked out. Suffers through flashbacks of the Marmora Trials.

He still has the suit. He puts it on sometimes just so he can dream through it, so he can know himself, know what he wants and what he fears, wakes up not being able to figure out whether something he's seen is a hope or a fear.

He _suffers._ Emotionally, so what's physically in comparison?

As long as it doesn't happen again, right? As long as he's constantly pushing to be better, faster, _stronger, sharper,_ it doesn't matter how much he suffers. It takes fire to temper steel.

He falls.

Gets up.

Feels the vibrations painfully up his arm and down his spine with every contact to his bayard.

Closes his eyes for a few seconds that stretch into a few hours.

Shakes himself awake.

Reengages the gladiator, because it's only been one day and he's already stopped to sleep six times.

Starts when he hears another voice, nearly hurling his bayard in Pidge's direction as they say, "of all the unhealthy ways to deal with survivor's guilt, this is pretty bad, Keith."

Keith closes his eyes and shudders out, "end training sequence," crumpling to his knees as his labored breathing rushes like trains through his aching throat. It takes a minute for him to catch enough breath to speak, and Pidge takes advantage.

"I don't know why I wasn't prepared for this," they mumble, striding over to him with a deep frown etched into their face. "Keith?" They kneel down in front of him. "It's not your fault, you know that, right?"

"Stop saying that!" he roars, wrenching his shoulder away from the hand that reaches toward it. Matt approaches him as well, coming around to Keith's other side and squatting in front of him.

Pidge tries again. "Yo, Keith, c-"

"Stop!" He squeezes his eyes shut. "I'm doing this _for you._ Just let me do what I can to make sure we're better next time. We have to claim Heptravitrine soon, within a week, ideally, because Lotor knows we're here now. The mission was a failure. _Because of me._ "

"Honestly, I thought you'd blame Lance," Pidge mutters. Then their tone turns up to a more annoyed pitch. "But it's not your fault, and you need to shut the fuck up about it being that way. You're moody, we all know, but this is hurting us. You need to come and eat dinner."

"No," spills out of Keith's mouth, but Pidge grips his shoulders and jerks him around to face them.

"Starving yourself isn't going to make you any better of a fighter than you already are," they hiss, and Keith deflates. They're not wrong.

He's still angry, though, so he doesn't back down - keeps glaring hard at them, fire burning away his eyes as he bores into those pretty amber irises. Pidge is calm, too. Like Lance. Like Coran, sort of, despite the flagrant lack of red ringing Pidge's eyes. They've been crying too - Keith knows this because he's _seen_ you are, but Keith, you're _ready._ You don't need to spend days on end in here, because you're good enough, okay? It's not your fault Allura died. It's not your fault any of this happened. But if you can't pick your ass up and keep moving, which, by the way, is not the same as morphing into an extra gladiator in the training deck, next time _will_ be your fault."

Keith winces. "Next time?" he says weakly, voice broken.

"Yeah. It's war. Grief is part of it, and it's going to stay a part of it. I know I have Matt and you have no one, not even back home - but Keith. We love you. And we don't want to see you do this to yourself."

Keith's eyes roll closed, inhaling fully and letting it shudder out. "You..."

"We love you."

Tears.

Again.

Threatening. Peeking out the corners of his eyes. He refuses to let them fall.

"I'm hungry."

"Good," Pidge says lightly, softly... "We're still on leftovers, but it's better than nothing."

Matt helps him up. Keith takes the hand gratefully, stumbling as his calves scream in protest. "I'll train against you, Keith," Matt offers. "It's better than exerting yourself over these dumb robots. I've been where you are, right now, and trust me, I think I can help you a lot more than these machines can."

Pidge links their arm through his, supporting him and his exhausted bones as they move toward the door. "Sure," Keith mumbles, the phrase _we love you_ still reverberating around his head. "I'd like that."

Pidge laughs a little, looking up at him. "We _do_ love you, Keith. Don't beat yourself up for rescuing Lance that day. We could have lost them both if it weren't for you."

"Or neither," Keith mutters, and Pidge swats his arm.

"Yeah, that's a possibility," Pidge huffs. "But I bet you if Slav was here, he'd never shut up about how amazed he was that we're all alive at all. So let up on yourself a little bit."

Keith nods, walking toward the dining room. His stomach is eating a hole through him, and he's glad Pidge and Matt decided to come after him.

Black Paladin.

_We love you._

Black Paladin.

Okay. Okay. If he's going to be the Black Paladin, he can't keep this up, then.

He's gotta lead.

He's gotta keep the rest of his team moving forward, not the other way around.

_We love you._

He loves them too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls comment and kudos!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's back

### sunlight filters through ash to illuminate bloodied petals - i

Keith knocks about four times before he's about to give up. "Lance," he tries to yell into the crack again, knowing Lance can hear him. "Open the door!"

For some reason he only half expects it to actually open, so it's a surprise when it does. Lance stands behind it, relaxed, headphones on, and he startles when he sees Keith, stepping back with wide eyes. Keith stares at him as he reaches up to pull one side of the headphones back so it rests behind his ear.

"Jeez, Keith, what the fuck?" Lance says, his voice breathy as he calms down. "Why are you standing outside my door?"

" _I was kn-_ you know what? Never mind," Keith huffs. What's the point. Lance had his music on. "Where did you even..." he trails off. "I was..."

"Uh, do you have something to actually say..?" Lance says slowly, raising an eyebrow, and Keith can feel the bite coming, so he just steps inside and sits down on the bed.

"I think you should pilot Black," Keith mutters before Lance can comment, and that - that gets Lance's attention. He gapes at Keith for a second before the door closes and he's pulling the headphones off entirely, coming over to sit down next to Keith.

"No," Lance says.

"What?"

"No."

"Why?" Keith demands, and annoyance blooms on Lance's face.

"I'm not going to pilot the Black Lion," he scowls.

"What." Keith can hardly believe what he's hearing. Of all the different reactions, he did _not_ expect utter refusal on Lance's part. "Isn't this what you've always wanted? A chance to one-up me, prove you're better? Be the leader of Voltron. Give Blue to someone else. I'll be your right hand man. What's not to like about that? You're a born leader."

Lance raises an eyebrow. "First of all, because you're the one asking, my automatic response is no." Keith glowers at him. He grins. "Second of all, thank you for saying I'm a born leader, I'm storing that away for the future to rub in your face. Third, I don't appreciate you saying 'give Blue to someone else' like she's just a toy, or old clothes."

"Oh my god." Keith rolls his eyes. None of these are real reasons to explain why Lance won't take Black.

"Fourth. I do remember telling you a long time ago that Blue and I are very happy together." Lance has lost his grin, and he looks borderline fearful once more - of being picked, of losing Blue, of facing Keith - of _something,_ but _what, exactly,_ Keith has no idea. "And, fifth, I guess, just... trust me when I say you're in a much better position to lead than I am."

Keith grits his teeth, closing his eyes and rubbing his ring. "What."

"Do you actually want me to repeat all of that-"

"No. Just." Keith inhales. Exhales. _No._ "Look, just pilot the Black Lion. Pick someone else for Blue. I don't - why are you making a big deal out of this?"

"You're sounding like a broken record," Lance snaps, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall. He props his legs up between them.

Keith glares at him. "I don't want to pilot the Black Lion."

"Why?" Lance demands.

"Why do you want me to? Just a few weeks ago you were totally against it."

Lance's eyebrows fly up at that, and he gives a hollow, broken laugh, utter disbelief on his face. "Weeks? Keith. That was years ago."

Keith stops short. "No, it wasn't."

"Yeah, buddy, it was."

"No."

" _Keith._ "

"It doesn't matter. Just take the Black Lion."

"God damn it!" Lance shouts, pulling off his headphones and tossing them off to the side. "No! I'm not going to do that. You have to lead. You're good enough now, usually not too far up your own ass anymore. Me and you actually get along now. I have no problems with you being leader, so just stop being a coward and do something for the team."

Oh. He played _that_ card. Keith winces. "You're better for the team..."

"Keith. Normally, hell, a few years ago, I would have been totally with you on that," Lance cuts in, determination still oddly sharp in his voice. He's not... backing down... 

At all...

"But just fucking trust me when I say I'm in no shape to lead jack shit right now."

Keith stares at Lance, and something hits him. Lance is skirting around something, something he's trying to say without saying, and Keith wants to - has to, needs to - know what that is. "Why?" he questions, the dare spearheading his voice toward Lance.

Lance's eyes flicker with caution. "I can't tell you. But it's better this way, and I don't care what you say. It's not going to change my mind." Then he grins again. "Besides. The Black Lion is definitely cursed. You'd be like its fourth Paladin, or something, just in the time we've been alive."

Keith feels like pulling out his hair. He grunts in frustration, turning to glare at the blank wall in front of him. Fine. Fucking fine. But then-

"You're piloting Red, then," Keith growls. Lance lets out a long agonized sigh, but Keith cuts him off. "It's either Black or Red. I don't know anyone I'd trust with the sword of Voltron, certainly not someone new. So. Either you take the lead, or you pilot Red."

"Dude." Lance's head lolls back against the wall as he gazes at Keith. It's kind of attractive, but Keith really doesn't need that thought right now. "I said. Blue and I are happy with each other."

"Fuck off," Keith fumes. "We can find a new Black Paladin, eventually, and I'll step the fuck down and you can go prance around with the Blue Lion all you want. But right now, I need you to pilot Red."

"You need me? That sounds different from what you said ten seconds ago."

Keith groans.

Lance is going to. Kill. Him.

"Look," Keith says quietly, flopping back against the bed and closing his eyes, reaching up with his hands to press them against his mouth, his cheeks, the sides of his nose, his eyes, fingers weaving into the fringe that's scattered over his forehead... "you're. The best pilot I know. Okay? Red needs someone like that. I don't trust Quasar enough that I would place her in their hands, not the fastest Lion. If you're going to force me to take the Black Lion, I'm picking Matt for Blue, and you're taking Red. I can't do anything else."

Lance is quiet for a moment. Then he snorts. " _Definitely_ saving that one for later." _Oh_ , Keith is going to... "Fine. I can live with Matt."

Keith opens his eyes. Sits up. Studies Lance's expression. He refuses to look up at Keith, staring at his knees in front of him, face controlled and neutral. "So, yes?" Keith checks.

Lance gives a short nod. He isn't happy about it.

Well. Keith isn't happy about it either.

"Okay," he mutters. "Thanks." He gets up to leave, and Lance grabs his hand. Keith glances back at where Lance's expression hasn't moved or changed.

"Keith..." he looks up at him, standing. He reaches forward, placing one hand against Keith's jaw, gaze jumping from Keith's left eye to his right eye as Keith's pulse picks up.

Then he removes his hand, reaching up to push some of Keith's bangs away from his eyes, turns, and strides out the door, leaving Keith alone behind in his room.

He lets his eyes slide closed.

Black Paladin.

His last shot at maybe _not_ assuming responsibility for everything is gone.

And he still hasn't found out why Lance keeps saying he's not fit to lead.

### takeout is better when you're broke and there are leftovers in the fridge - v

Coran is chosen as blood relative for Allura's funeral. Apparently all of Blueshift has common basic guidelines of what funerals are like - Allura's dressed in her favorite gown, her plain blue and pink one, old and threadbare but still definitely how Keith identified her way back when. She's in a small pod, aimed at the sun that once held the planet Altea in its grasp but now pulls only ruins through the system - ready for launch, ready to return the princess to her home star. To send her back into the universe, directly, or so Blueshift symbolizes it.

They pick speakers for blood relative, for love interest, for progeny, and for friends. Lance is currently put off that Keith was chosen for love interest and he for friend, but whatever. Keith is the gay one - at least this way he can focus on paying his respects to Allura and not on his jealousy, rising up like bile every time he has to watch Lance flirt with another alien girl.

Coran stands in front of a large crowd, all gathered in the castle ballroom as he addresses them from the top of the stairs, flanked on either side by the Paladins, Koidra, Matt, and Nyma.

It takes him several minutes to gather enough strength to speak.

"Allura was as much of a daughter to me," he starts, "as my own might have been. She may not have been of my own blood, but my heart was with her from the start. I looked after her growing up whenever her own father couldn't give her all the love bursting in his heart. She grew, over the years, into a beautiful, strong, assertive young woman - a born leader, commanding respect and exuding dignity with every word.

"She was brave, selfless, always willing to fight by the side of her allies, always willing to exert herself sometimes past her limits to help in the war effort. That she should go out like this, before our victory over the Galra empire, is an injustice in the universe without warrant." Coran blinks, focusing on the railing in front of them before continuing. "She grew up full of dreams and aspirations. She would have been an excellent queen - naturally born to lead and gifted with unprecedented diplomacy. Always loyal to her father and to Altea, unafraid to fight for what was right.

"She was strong. Even after waking up 10,000 years after the day Zarkon turned on Altea, learning that he had been expanding his empire to cover most of the known universe, she fought to find new Paladins for Voltron and led them headfirst into the war. She stood up, alone for all she knew, against the most powerful race in the universe, fully ready to bringing down this empire single-handedly. And I know that she fought until her dying breath, and even now she would be urging us to prepare for attack. We're lucky, all of us, to have known her, and she will live on in our hearts until we die. We'll tell our children about her, because she was the emblem of this revolution, and _when we win,_ no one will hold a higher honor than she does and always will." Coran's eyes are overflowing, and he sniffs, turning slightly to cue Keith.

Keith steps forward slightly, leaning over the railing to redirect everyone's attention away from the rapidly breaking down Coran. "I was never more than a loyal friend and supporter to the Princess of Altea," he begins. He takes a deep breath, exhales. "But the man I considered akin to my brother, I know, loved her deeply." He pretends he isn't telling his friends for the first time about Shiro and Allura. "And for good reason.

"She was a beautiful person, inside and out, always determined to do the right thing, ready to make sacrifices for the good of others. Someone I aspire to be like as I succeed her, but someone I can only dream of matching up to. Shiro, the Black Paladin before her, loved her for her character, for her readiness to fight, for her independence. For her love for others, her open mind, and for the parts of her that still found a way to cling to the joy of childhood throughout everything she was going through.

"She was someone he could see clearly, someone he knew understood him and someone he understood. Someone he cared about deeply. I know in order to do this justice it would have been better if he'd been here to do this himself. But in war, we all know the risks, and we all know casualty is an inescapable side effect.

"Her life wasn't in vain. She started this revolution and gave it an edge over the Galra empire. I choose to honor her death by taking up her role and continuing her legacy. We're going to end the empire. For her."

He bows his head and steps back from the railing - it's short, but whatever. Coran got too emotional to continue. He got too repetitive to continue. Pidge steps forward.

"I've felt grief before," is how they start, and Keith thinks it's a little odd, but they continue on. "I know many of you have as well. It sucks. I used to blame myself, I used to get angry, I would lose sight of what's important in perspective of my loss. And I know that with Allura, some of us have taken the same path.”

Alright. So Keith feels a _little_ called out.

“And I don’t think that’s bad. She was a strong person who did unsurmountable duty to this revolution, and we have every right to be angry and bitter over this terrible loss we’ve suffered. I wouldn’t say grief gets easier over time - if anything, the more people you lose, the harder it gets. And knowing that Allura really isn’t coming back is terrifying. Knowing that we’ve lost our largest edge over Prince Lotor and the Galra Empire is terrifying, and we _should_ be scared.

“But here’s the thing. Allura wouldn’t want that. She was too headstrong to let grief drag her down. She pulled through and if anything, was more determined than ever to fight back against Zarkon after she found out her father was ten thousand years dead. And I honor and respect her for that, because I know that’s where I certainly couldn’t do her justice. I aspire to be like her. We should all aspire to be like her. Because with more people like her in the universe, we wouldn’t ever have to worry about a single thing going on, a single person slacking off, a single mission going awry, a single doubt overlooked. She was meticulous like that, and it always, _always_ paid off.

“I don’t know what her children would have said to her in my place. But she was family to me as much as Matt is, and I miss her bitterly like I miss my own mother back home at Earth. She was caring, even when she was driven. She was kind, even when she was relentless. She was new in her role as a leader and not a hundred percent comfortable, but she wore it like her own skin and anyone would have assumed she was born to it.”

Pidge pauses, glancing around at the quiet, respectful gazes turned up to them. “We can’t let her die,” they say. “She lives on in all of us. When we raise our weapons, we shoot in her name. When we raise our fists, we roar with victory in her name. And when we raise our glasses, we drink in her name. For the last Princess of Altea, we stand united, and in her spirit we vow to finish the Galra empire. Forever.”

There’s silence for a while, and then clapping and pounding and yelling erupts from their audience. They quiet themselves when Lance steps forward at last, but Keith’s still dwelling on Pidge’s speech. _That’s going to be controversial,_ he thinks, smirking a little internally at it. Not like Pidge to just mourn and leave it at that - of course they’d pull words to warp them into a battle oath. Pidge is a determined one.

“I guess it’s the same for me,” Lance says, his voice a lot quieter than Pidge’s dangerously sharp tone. “Yeah, I was Allura’s friend, but she was a lot like family, more than anything. I have a big one back at home - aunts, uncles, six siblings. All in one house. It’s chaotic there, and there’s one woman always yelling at everyone to calm down, to behave, to wash the dishes, to do their homework, to get their feet off the table, to cook lunch, to focus. And for me, for these last few years I’ve spent defending our universe, that’s been Allura.” Lance’s voice is still soft. He’s staring at the small space of railing between his hands, frowning slightly. Keith’s entire attitude changes - his fingers stop restlessly massaging the railing in front of him, his eyes stop darting around, his ears stop straining to pick up the small wafting side conversation from here and there and instead zero in on Lance’s soft, soft voice.

“Anyone who’s had a mother, had a girlfriend, a daughter… you know how much Allura meant to me, to us. To all five us. I don’t see how these hallways can ever be the same now that she’s gone. I’m going to walk into breakfast late and she won’t be there yelling at me to get ready faster. I’m going to be fighting the Galra and she won’t be yelling encouragement into the comms, constantly relaying strategic advice and offering help from up here. I’m going to turn to my side and offer to sweep her off her feet, and I won’t find those same sapphire eyes narrowing back at me. We’ve lost more than just a person - we’ve lost her love, her authority, her _stunning_ looks, her bravery, her unwavering determination - and most of all, we’ve lost a part of our family.

“So I don’t know how I’m going to go on. I don’t know how different things are going to be from now on, without her there - because she’s always been there. She was there before all of this, and she was the second to last person who ever knew what the universe was like before the Galra empire. But god, all I can say for sure is that after this, I will personally see to it that every one of you gets to know what the universe is like after the Galra empire.” Lance turns and leaves, heading into the hallway that leads to the platform they’re standing at. People raise their voices as he finishes, clapping, faces solemn. Keith watches his back recede into the dimmed lights of the corridor, his mind working sluggishly.

Everyone grieves different, huh.

The rest of the funeral passes in a haze. Keith doesn’t follow all the introductions he smiles through, trying his damndest to stay cordial. But, oh, man - he is not cut out for the diplomacy part of this, not at all. He’s going to have to appoint someone like Hunk in charge of diplomatic missions from now on, because he can not keep up with this. The walking in circles, the glasses of different drinks from different cultures, the blurring faces.

It’s how he winds up with Koidra, sitting at a larger table at the head of the room, below the platform they gave their speeches from. He waves off all the aliens approaching him, just talking to Koidra in hushed murmurs.

“What happens next?” Keith asks.

“It’s up to you. I’ll offer strategic advice, but we follow your lead.”

That’s suspicious, Keith thinks. No leader of such a large and mobilized army as this is going to just _give_ Keith leadership. “We attack Heptavitrine again. As soon as possible - tomorrow.”

Koidra nods as if he’s considering it, tilting his head to one side, then the other. His four eyes all peer up at the curved staircase to Keith’s right. “No,” he says in a tone of voice that lets Keith know he hasn't really been considering it, just putting on a show.

“Day after tomorrow.”

“It’s too early. Blueshift is not ready.”

“Tell me the earliest they will be.”

“A month,” Koidra says smoothly, and Keith realizes - he already decided on this, too. He’s putting on a show. Just putting on a show for Keith, to give Keith the illusion of being control.

He’s not falling for it. “Three weeks. Then Voltron moves, with or without you. We will forge our way through, and when we kill Lotor, you’re going to want to be there, I’m assuming. Either join us or back out.”

Koidra considers him. Keith can see it in his face - by the way one of his eyes narrows slightly, the way his mouth turns downward at the corner. Oooh, Koidra doesn’t like it. “We can do our best to meet your expectations,” he says, smiling, and Keith…

He _does_ still have an attractive smile. But Keith just. He can’t trust it. It’s just the feeling in his gut - the sickening twist every time they make eye contact. He swears Koidra has an underlying plan. But he needs to figure it out before he can do anything about it.

 

It's Lance, apparently returned, who catches his eye later, Keith's interest piqued once more. He's thankful, because the evening was getting dull and mind-numbing; he excuses himself quickly and strides toward Lance where the man is chatting up some alien girl. Okay. Good timing, then. He tries not to pay attention to how different Lance looks in what was formerly Keith's bright red and hooks an arm around Lance's elbow, physically tugging him away and around to face him.

"Let's take a walk," Keith suggests, and Lance shrugs.

"Sure."

They make their way toward the end of the ballroom where it opens up to the entrance hall. It's less crowded here, but Keith will figure out what he wants to say to Lance once they really get out of the way. He pushes through masses of people, winding up with another glass in his hand, drinking it all because this one is actually sweet and comparatively pleasant, placing it back on someone's tray. Lance pauses and picks up two glasses that look like champagne as they near the exit, offering one to Keith.

Keith really doesn't want it, so he makes a face at first, but accepts the glass as Lance's eyebrows jump up once in challenge. Downs the drink inside. Sets it on a floating table to his left as he shuffles past the last few people near the entrance. Tries not to let on how his throat is constricting in disgust at the bitter-sour taste, tingling and numbing. Feels the haze of drinking start to settle over him - his first sip was ages ago, when he realized he'd likely be spending a good portion of the night talking to Koidra, and _now_ is when he starts feeling anything more than warm. He glances back to make sure Lance is keeping up before stepping over the threshold and out onto the sand that makes up the planet. It's solid beneath his feet, just a light dusting over the bridge that spans the gap between ground and castle.

Murky sunlight - starlight - floats in the clouds overhead, scattering down to touch the sand but scarcely enough to cause any glare. Keith takes a second, eyes tracing the familiar slopes of sand stretching forever into the horizon.

He doesn't actually like the desert. Reminds him of his days with his dad, which reminds him of the day he left and later when Keith decided to enlist in the Garrison. Reminds him of soon after he was booted from there, lost and alone and feeling like a complete failure. A lot of the time he spent chasing his instincts in the desert, he was completely convinced he was going crazy - that he had finally snapped under all that had happened to him, finally and utterly just _lost_ it. But he likes the quietness, the illusion of solitude - no one breathing down his neck to evaluate his piloting, no one complimenting him and musing over his talent, no one asking him how he does it, no one yelling at him about how, Keith, you're such a good pilot, but if you could just stop breaking the _rules..._

"What are you thinking about, Samurai?" Keith's heart immediately softens at the old nickname. He hasn't heard it in so long. He blinks, smiling slightly, finding comfort in standing here side by side with Lance...

"Home," he answers honestly. Lance glances into the distance where they know lie several entrances to the hidden underground Blueshift base.

"Me, too," Lance replies. "Always." Keith shifts his gaze over to Lance, whose eyes will always feel more like home than any amount of dry sand and beating down sun. Breathable atmosphere - this planet has one for humans. It's a little low. They can't spend much time out here without their helmets and Keith resents that a little - means he can't stall, he has to get it out now.

"You don't seem happy," Keith mumbles, wanting to reach out and touch Lance's hair but refraining. "You always look so sad, Lance, like you're losing something, but you're watching it go." Lance's ocean eyes have lowered a few degrees - not quite looking down, but enough to let Keith know he's hitting home. "And I don't know what's wrong."

"Okay," Lance says softly. Keith waits.

"Is that it?"

Lance shrugs. "What else do you want me to say?"

"What's bothering you, Lance?" _What are you thinking about? What goes on in your head when you stare at the air like you are now?_

A sigh. Lance turns his head away, looking out at the horizon again. "A lot of things. You're going to have to be a little more specific, Keith."

Keith frowns. Specific. How can he be more specific? "Okay. Uh, let's start at the beginning, when Pidge and Matt, you know, found each other, I guess. You didn't seem... what were you thinking about?"

Lance pauses, his eyes going hazy as he searches back through his memories. Makes sense. It's been several weeks since that day. "Ohh," Lance murmurs as he remembers. "That was years ago. No, I was just... thinking about my family, I guess. I don't know, but watching Pidge and Matt... it sort of kills me inside. I don't know if you understand."

Years ago? No. Can't be right. Keith feels like barely any time has passed. "Not really, but I get it." He doesn't have experience but... he can sympathize. "I don't know what I can say..."

"Nothing. You're good," is Lance's simple answer. He's furrowing his brows and reaching up to rub at his temples with one hand. "Listen, uh... I don't feel that great right now. I'll see you." Keith nods, not understanding that Lance means to leave until he starts leaving.

"Wait," Keith calls out. "Where are you going?"

"My room, I guess," Lance mumbles. "If I can find it."

Keith lifts a brow. "I'll take you there." If he can find it? They've lived in the same rooms for years. And years. And years.

"No, that's fine..." but Keith doesn't want Lance to leave, doesn't want the distance between them to grow any larger, so he closes it, steps hurried to catch up to Lance. He slides his arm around Lance's waist and leans into him to steady himself as the castle walls start to look a little more fluid. Like he's done with Matt so many times without blinking, but when he does it with Lance he's suddenly alive, suddenly happier, suddenly calmer.

Lance stops walking and brings up an arm behind Keith to support him, even though the moment has passed. "Keith? What did you..."

"I have had a lot to drink today," Keith mutters, reveling in the warmth he can feel through Lance's suit where it's thinner around his middle. "Probably not the best idea, but a lot better than talking to Koidra sober."

Lance frowns, walking forward again. "Don't do drugs. Stay in - oh. Well. Don't become an alcoholic."

Keith rolls his eyes in response, feeling a calm settling over him as intoxication dusts his brain. "I'm not going to become an alcoholic," he huffs.

"Mmm." They're pushing through people again, heading back toward the ballroom. Keith is noticing it around him, now - before he was too busy hating his life and then thinking about Lance, but now he focuses on the expressive smiles people throw his way, the rolling tears from people he's certain Allura had never met, the flushed cheeks and the unfocused conversations. 

Lance pauses to pick some delicacy off another tray. These are all mourning foods, is what Keith realizes, staring at the unnatural blues that cover the small orb in Lance's fingers. Blue is a mourning color in... some planet Matt told him about. He remembers that. They're mourning foods, and this is why his thought processes feel slow rather than high, like they do at some of the more spirited parties he's been forced to attend.

Keith doesn't like drinking. Hates it, actually. Likes to be aware. But sometimes he'd really rather just not deal with Koidra, and he knows they're safe when they're this deep into the free or rebelling systems. So he does it sometimes.

"You're mumbling nonstop," Lance whispers in Keith's ear, popping the orb into his mouth. Keith reaches out for one, but Lance holds his hand away. "Nope. Dunno if you've ever noticed, but I hate watching you drink, and you're not getting this."

Keith scowls and whistles at the alien holding the tray - they smile and offer one to him, and he plucks it off the napkin and pops it into his mouth. The outer coating on the sphere immediately melts and coats his tongue in thick sweetness, the shell resisting until he pushes his tongue up against it. It cracks and collapses, viscous juice flowing out and swirling down his throat. Keith's eyebrows lift up in appreciation as a chill spreads over the surface of his tongue, his throat, nodding at Lance.

Lance sighs. "We need to go. It's not right to be around all these people. Gotta find the right room..."

Keith ponders this. Not right to be around all these people? Why? Not right to mourn? This is one tradition he understands the importance of. "We're paying our respects to the Princess," Keith states, leaning his cheek into Lance's shoulder. The colors around him are muted. Sadness prickles and frosts over his chest as the words fall from his lips, and he frowns, climbing the stairs with Lance, glancing over to see all the people who've come for Allura.

It's a lot.

And he misses her.

And ... "Who?"

And? Lance?

"Wait."

"Allura, Lance," Keith says, turning his eyes up to peer at Lance's face. They're going through the hallway now. The lights dim as they move away from the ballroom, as the sounds drift into a soft haze. "Allura. The Princess."

"I know..." Lance is frowning. "I think you should leave."

"We're going to your room."

They walk in silence - Lance's face is going crazy the entire way. Keith watches him, eyes trailing the slope of his nose and the edge of his jaw, _so nice,_ but lingering for several minutes on the tightness around his eyes, the downward turn to his mouth.

"You're sad again," Keith mumbles as they near Lance's room finally.

"Please leave," Lance says.

The room opens, and Lance looks relieved, trying to pull away from Keith and head inside. Keith doesn't let him, following, reaching forward so his pinky never ceases contact as his hand slides down Lance's armor. "Why?" Keith says softly. "I don't like it down there. I don't want to go listen to Koidra and Matt is god knows where."

"Mhmm," Lance says, sitting down on the bed and staring up at Keith. "Look, dude, my brain is not working right now, and before I get more confused, I think you should leave..."

"Lance," Keith insists. "I don't feel like it."

Lance frowns. "Don't you have to, like..." he gestures at Keith's chest. "Tend to Black Paladin duties or whatever?"

Keith sits down. "I'm always attending to Black Paladin duties. I'll talk to you."

"I don't want to talk to you."

Keith stills, glancing up. "Why?"

"Uh... nothing to say. I don't feel good."

"Are you sick?"

"No," Lance insists. "I don't feel good about this place."

"Me neither... why?" Keith frowns, studying Lance's face - he doesn't _look_ suspicious. He looks scared.

"Please just go," Lance mutters. "I'll explain later. I think I know what's going on. You should go before it gets really bad." Then his expression shifts. "I... how do we get out of here?"

Lance gets up and stands in front of the doors, staring at the line where one joins to another. Then he raises his fists and starts banging on it.

"Lance!" Keith's eyes widen in surprise as he rises and reaches out. "Whoa. What are you doing."

"I have to get out," Lance mumbles, struggling as Keith wraps his fingers around Lance's wrists and pulls him back.

"You just got here. You just said you wanted to go to your room."

"Look." Lance pulls his hands free of Keith's and backs up into the corner of his room so fast he stumbles over his own feet. "I don't want to say something that might make you uncomfortable, or anything..."

Keith's losing it. His mind is moving slowly from the gentle haze of growing drunkenness, and what's coming out of Lance's mouth fails to find meaning in his brain. "What are you talking about?" He waves his hand in front of the door, because Lance wants out... even though they just got here. It doesn't open, which is a little funny.

Keith goes back to Lance where he's now sitting against the wall with his knees pulled up, staring up at Keith with his head tipped back - relaxed, but hiding in his corner nonetheless. Keith kneels in front of him. "... are you okay?"

Damn it. He shouldn't have drank anything. Lance doesn't respond, so Keith keeps asking him questions, trying to figure out why the sudden change in attitude.

Then: "look. I'm sorry. I don't... know your name. Probably just the - you know. But like, nothing you are saying is making any sense to me."

Keith's blood has been moving sluggishly, but as the words register, he thinks it actually stops and freezes in place.

### someone who, above all else, you kind of fall in love with - iii

That's when it starts. Lance doesn't talk to him - Keith can't get the damn door open, so they end up sleeping there. Keith offers to take the floor, but Lance refuses to take the bed, and they both wind up spending the night on the floor.

### sunlight filters through ash to illuminate bloodied petals - ii

He doesn't see Lance at all for the next several days. He thinks he's being avoided. He doesn't know what he'd say, either.

Coran finds him a couple days after the funeral, knocking on his door with the promise he has something to show him - _what is it? - just come with me._

He takes him to the AI room. There's another case of glowing orbs next to the shattered one that used to house Alfor. "What is this, Coran?" Keith mutters, stepping forward to trace his fingers lightly over the glass.

"Allura stored herself here for you. It wasn't long before the Galra took her. She was planning to ask the rest if you to do the same, to prepare. In case one of you unexpectedly died, your information and advice would still be accessible to the rest of us. She copied her memories and placed them here, though - the functionality may be a little damaged since we never bothered to repair it after cleansing the system of that Galra crystal energy, but. She's all here." Coran sounds like he's controlling his emotions closely, like if he so much as glances in the other direction they'll all slip free. "It's comforting to know that after I've lost so much, she, at least, is still here with us. Forever."

Keith steps closer to the glass, squinting at the shimmering halos inside. "Can we see her?" he asks. Because that's the logical thing to ask. He doesn't know how to express everything he's suddenly feeling right now - how could he not have thought of this before? It's brilliant - it's _obvious..._ He should do it too, Matt and the others and Lance should do it too...

"The Castle should pick up your wants and turn the AI on," Coran says softly. Keith focuses, trying to think about how the Castle picks up on his intentions and opens his room for him, trying to channel that into something more like _let me speak to Allura..._

"Keith." Keith's eyes widen as he hears her voice, turning around to find her smiling and healthy next to Coran, whose eyes are shining but who's otherwise very emotionally contained.

"Princess," Keith sighs, his eyebrows drawing together and up. "I'm so _sorry..._ "

She raises an eyebrow, one corner of her mouth quirking up. "It's not your fault, Keith. You're doing an excellent job in my place. Shiro would have been proud."

 _Shiro._ The memory of him is distant, faded, yet ever present like the itch of a splinter. A splinter in his heart, deep and aching and hearing _Allura_ talk about him is. It's like the same feelings of guilt and sadness, but squared, multiplied by itself, and itself, and itself, grief feeding on grief. "I could have been quicker," he mutters. "I could have stuck to the plan."

"You did well with the options you had, Keith," Allura says, and hearing her say his name again and again is so grounding. Little that goes on in Quasar seems tethered to reality, and this is the first thing that's clear, the first thing that makes sense for the longest time. "It was better me than Lance, wasn't it?" and Keith wants to shake his head, not because it wasn't better but because there's no way he could have picked between them - but he did, he did, and he picked Lance. He can't be forgiven for that. "Forgive me, I know this is tough for you, but my curiosity begs to ask; there's a reason you acted like that that day, right? Is there anything you maybe feel for Lance, outside of the bond between Paladins?"

Keith is frowning, one, avoiding the question, two, confused... "she remembers the day she died? But you said she transferred her memories before that."

"The Castle connected to her when we tried to heal her in the pod and updated them," Coran explains, Allura nodding.

"That doesn't matter. But, back to the topic of Lance, you know, I _am_ confined to this room. It won't hurt to tell me...

Nope. Keith isn't telling anyone, because it's really pathetically pointless. He's got feelings for his teammate. Stellar. He'll tell someone if they have to know for the good of the universe, which is a situation he has a hard time imagining, so. No one really _needs_ to know about it, anyway. He's pretty sure Matt's figured it out, but he hasn't said anything, so.

"Keith?"

"Yeah, sorry. No, uh, I don't... hold Lance in any higher or lower regard than I hold the rest of my friends." He closes his eyes and sighs, then. "I'm glad you're here, Allura," he says quietly, and he feels her presence grow closer as the light behind his eyelids glows brighter. Sees her hand clasping his shoulder when he opens his eyes. "I'm really... alone."

"You'll never be alone, Keith," Allura hums quietly. "The day Voltron called to you was the day you gained us all as your friends and family forever. You don't have to feel that way."

Keith smiles at her, soft, slight.

And when he leaves he's back to thinking of Lance.

Allura isn't alive, but she's here and she's comforting and she's nicer now that she doesn't hold responsibility for all of them - it's a burden he actually understands, now, and it's nice to see her relieved of it.

He's not sure if Lance was drinking or if he was tired or if Keith started hallucinating, maybe hearing things that weren't happening. The night _is_ slightly fuzzy in his memories.

Allura can guide him when he's feeling lost, now - she'll stand by him, and it's a comfort he didn't realize how much he missed.

He assumes the entire situation with Lance must have been something related to the food and drink from the funeral until...

### jenny was a friend of mine - iii

Keith's awoken rudely in the middle of the night by Lance bunching up Keith's shirt in his fists, growling low in Keith's ears. "My _headphones._ "

Keith shoves him off and draws his knife on pure instinct before the words are even fully out of Lance's mouth. Lance is breathing hard and covered in sweat, his face looking hurt, his voice coming out angry.

"What did you do with my headphones?" Lance demands, crossing his arms. "I know you have them."

Keith blinks several times, trying to fully comprehend the situation. "I don't have your headphones!" he hisses at Lance, intending it a lot louder but held back by his throat, hoarse with sleep. "What the fuck are you in my room in the middle of the night for?? How did you even get in?" He's still half in his dream at the moment.

Lance glances up at the ceiling. He doesn't move for several minutes. He seems to be coming to a realization, but not one he wholly believes - the suspicion still floats over his features, coupled now with confusion.

"Lance? Are you okay?" Keith checks, and Lance's gaze snaps down to meet Keith's eyes.

Stares.

Then he swears in Spanish, turns around, and leaves, not bothering to explain.

Keith's too tired to think about it much.

But then Lance avoids him for another week.

And the distance keeps growing.

### you’re all that and i’m - i

"Blueshift is killing me," Lance sighs miserably. Keith looks up when Lance joins him unannounced, glancing quickly around - they're still alone, so theoretically Keith should have noticed Lance walking all the way across the dining hall up to his table. But okay.

He waits for Lance to elaborate.

"I can't. Stand it. Seeing all these fucking families, fighting for each other, together... I miss Earth."

Keith looks back down at his food and starts eating again. He doesn't know what to say, but Lance seems to be waiting, so - "we'll go back soon."

Lance watches him for a while. "Don't you?"

Keith looks up without lifting his head. "Don't I what?"

"Miss Earth?"

Keith frowns. "Yeah. I mean, that's where we all grew up. But not really in the same way you do, I guess. Everyone important to me is out here."

"How can you not be attached to anything back there?"

"I was attached to my hoverbike," Keith considers. "But I mostly miss it through you guys, you and Matt, more than anyone else."

Lance stares off to the side, his leg bouncing, his fingers tapping away at the table. His restlessness starts to spread with an itch slowly rising up Keith's legs, until he stands and turns away. "Alright. Good talk," he says, heading back toward the entrance to the dining hall. Keith watches him go, rubbing at his mouth with a napkin. What was that about? Is that really all Lance wanted to say?

"Missed you during Neiyic status reports last night," he calls. Lance looks back at Keith.

"Sorry," he says, the faint syllables barely reaching Keith's ears. He doesn't slow down. Keeps walking away.

And the distance keeps growing.

### jenny was a friend of mine - iv

" _Where_ the fuck is Lance," Keith explodes, his patience worn thin and broken through and snapped and fucking _gone..._

"He clearly seems to have too much freedom. Either he's got a discipline issue, or you're not doing a good job keeping Voltron under control," Koidra says smoothly - and he phrases it, his inflection, the tone of his voice - like it's tragic, like it's _such_ a shame, really, - _you're such a good pilot, it's such a shame really,_ and Keith wants to fucking punch him in the face. Gouge out all four of his pretty eyes. That's how _angry_ he is, livid, he's fucking _done..._

"Oh, yeah," he spits. "Did you know Nyma stole an entire ion cannon in the Neiyic system two quintents ago, and now we have little hope of absorbing their forces to join with ours? Do you know what kind of crackdown they're experiencing with the Galra because of this stupid fucking stunt she thought was a stellar idea? Nice discipline you have in your top-notch rebel alliance-"

"Keith." Matt's voice finally filters into his brain, his hands clamping down on Keith's shoulders, holding him back, Keith realizes. How long has Matt been repeating his name? Keith flutters his eyes closed and rubs his thumb against the pearl ring under his glove, feeling the metal rotate around his pinky, letting himself breathe for a second.

"You-"

And Keith goes for it, just launches forward before Koidra can say anything, moving to deck the motherfucker, but he _can't_ because Matt is holding him down, and he's struggling now...

He wrestles his arms out of Matt's grasp, shrugging him away and pushing him away and turning away as he swivels to face the wall and crosses his arms over his chest. "Don't fucking insult my Paladins," Keith seethes over his shoulder. "They're twelve times the fighters you could ever hope to be."

"I've been fighting for at least twelve times longer. Sit back down so we can discuss this," Koidra says, ever calm, ever smooth, a voice like glass, low, a little smoky, grating...

"Where is he. What the fuck is he doing. He never shows up anymore..." Keith pushes his fingers back through his hair, eyes flickering to meet Pidge's. "How do I even know he knows what's going on?"

"He usually asks me or Hunk afterwards," Pidge reassures him. "But... honestly, I haven't really seen him much either. He keeps to himself now."

"You do, too," Hunk mutters quietly, but Keith hears him. Narrows his eyes. Bites down his response. Still wants to deck Koidra in the face.

Juerr, a woman with red skin and cyan-white hair and gold eyes and gold lips and gold markings up her arms and spines down two ridges that go past her temples and round down to her spine and bioluminescent irises and teeth in the dark and long claws and six phalanges on each hand and a slim slim slim body. Keith takes in every small alien detail about her to calm himself down, focusing, forcing himself to still his thoughts and just concentrate on one subject. She's head of the Blueshift arms, munitions, and artillery department.

"I saw him earlier this morning," she offers. "He was searching for something he kept calling the weekly simulation rankings."

Oh.

Keith panics a little as the news sinks in. Changing the topic. Now.

"Let's go back. You mentioned a final trip we'd need to take right before the attack. What kind of fucking trip is so important that we have to do it before we fight the most important battle of our lives, but so undesirable you're literally _planning_ to wait until the last goddamn minute." Keith turns around and sits back down at his edge of the table, leveling his heated glare at Koidra.

"We're going to consult a Facilitator," Koidra announces, which for some reason elicits several different reactions from a majority of the Blueshift officials around the room. Juerr grins, her eyes brightening until her sclera glows even in the well-lit room. Reuge, pilot of one of their point battleships, slumps down in his chair and seems to age 40 years, his large brown orbs of eyes dulling to thick black. Chlom, the part-fish girl who's one of their top strategists, seems begrudgingly appreciative of Koidra's decision.

"What the hell is that?" Keith asks, point blank.

"There really aren't words to describe them. They're an alien race, and they facilitate the development of a universe. One resides at Redshift headquarters," Koidra says.

"Okay. Thanks for being vague as fuck," Keith says.

"He's right," Chlom speaks, her voice loud and resonant even when she tries to keep it down. "There are no words to describe them. Meeting with them will either fix all our problems, or will be completely unproductive."

"Facilitate the universe?" Pidge asks. "How can they do that? And if there's someone in charge of the universe, why have the Galra been able to take over most of it?"

"Their job isn't to stop conflict," Juerr says, her eyes shining. "It's to subtly influence the development of a universe, to keep it together. Why do you think everyone in the universe uses the same language as standard, even younger races such as yours? Or has the same names and letter denotations for chemical elements? The same laws of science down to the word?

"Because Earth was once connected with the rest of the universe, and picked up English from aliens?" Hunk mumbles, and Keith recalls what Matt told them oh so long ago.

"No, when Earth was connected, the universally standard language was actually Sanskrit," Chlom says, her pristine voice cutting into Keith's eardrums. She's whispering, but. _Mermaids._ Wonderful underwater, but awful above the surface. "We've arrived at a much more simplistic tongue over the millennia. An ancient tongue very few planets know anymore, Sanskrit, is still the purest, the original language, universally - it lasted for millions of years. Every local dialect across the galaxies is traceable to Sanskrit."

"The Facilitators," Reuge's soft, drooping voice interrupts mercifully, "are more of concentrated consciousness than they are actual beings. They're potentially omniscient, although, of course, we can't really know. They have no power on the physical plane, but intuitively they can influence every motion that passes within the universe."

"So they're... gods," Hunk sums up. "Just not the way we think of a god usually, but like... they're gods."

"Many primitive species find comfort in naming them god, yes," Koidra supplies, and Keith's temper is off again, only this time he's had _enough._

"Whatever, do what you have to do," Keith growls, pushing up from his chair and sending it screeching backwards. He's turning to leave when Juerr speaks.

"They tell you everything you need or want to know," she says hungrily.

"Or they don't tell you anything," Reuge moans.

"They're okay," Yuin says, another boy with a seat at their council. Keith doesn't slow down, striding out the door. He can feel everyone's eyes on him, but he doesn't _care._ And he really wants to know where the hell Lance always fucks off to whenever he's supposed to come out in public.

There's a brief blissful moment of silence as he swirls like a hurricane down the hall, until at the end of the line he turns the corner and it opens into the buzz of the main hangar. It's the usual reaction as he storms toward the staircase that opens up closest to the castle outside, people acting casual but throwing him glances in fear or caution or admiration. Matt catches up to him halfway to his exit, pulling his left shoulder back so Keith swivels around to face him. "Keith-"

"What," Keith snaps. Glares. Breathes. Takes in Matt's cautious but firm gaze. Waits for Matt to continue, knowing him well enough that he won't. Then his demeanor breaks and he's falling forward, dropping his head down to Matt's shoulder and pulling him closer. Matt's arms come up around Keith, wrapping him in what would be warmth if they weren't reaching through two layers of armor.

Keith opens his eyes, glancing up because he gets this weird feeling suddenly like there's something to see, and finds- finds- ... Lance, surrounded by a holographic display, wearing headphones with an attached mic, staring at Keith and Matt embracing ten feet away. He's in normal clothes, a hoodie with the sleeves rolled up, despite Allura's suggestion that they keep their armor on around Blueshift. As Keith makes eye contact with him, he turns away, attention back on the display - Keith has no idea what he's doing, but before he can focus enough to figure it out-

"C'mon," Matt mutters low in his ear, and Keith is so weak to that sound, that feeling. Matt pulls back and grabs Keith's wrist lightly, leading him in the direction of the communications center as Keith keeps staring over his shoulder at Lance.

He only turns to face the way they're going when they climb the stairs that stop halfway up and the door closes them off from the main hangar. They're in the communications room, massive, filled with monitors and holograms and people sitting with headphones and microphones, clipboards, scribbling, chatter. The giant projection at the end of the room with the two master lists, one of all shipments and the other of their battleships' missions. Matt pulls him forward still, into his large office and living space, and here is where Keith is comfortable, where he spends most of his time, now. Where things make sense. Where he's calm as the door shuts behind him and he can finally breathe in the air of the only place in the entire rebel base he would call familiar to him.

"All right," Matt sighs as he flops down on a sofa. Keith slides down into his usual spot, leaning back into the corner formed by the armrest and the back of the sofa, closing his eyes. "Former med student at your service. I know what has you all worked up, so just ask it now and get it out. There's no reason for both of us to pretend we haven't noticed."

Keith takes two long-ass breaths before he answers, gathering himself, psyching himself up. "What's going on with Lance?" he blows out in a huff of air, miserable.

Keith cracks his eyes open to see Matt's reaction as Matt leans forward, his eyes lowering. "I could be wrong, first off. Not really an expert at this stuff. But I think I have an idea about it all." He reaches forward, taps the corner of the table, and a screen lights up into existence. Matt navigates to Blueshift's research database and swipes into his history, scrolling just a page and a half down before tapping open a document. Keith leans forward. "Read," Matt says.

Keith skims it first, glances up, opens his mouth. Frowns. Looks down again, reading it word for word. He's two and a half paragraphs into rereading it for the third time when Matt turns it off in impatience. "Dementia," Keith drops as his eyes linger where they'd been reading mid sentence, disbelief and deep dread settling with cold weight into his stomach at once.

"Specifically space dementia," Matt says quietly, shifting closer so they're right up next to each other now; Keith can press his entire body shoulder to knee up against Matt if he leans a few centimeters to the left. "There's not much information about it here, I think it's specific to very few species, those that aren't really the best fitted for space travel."

"Dementia happens to old people," Keith says hollowly, slowly slowly slowly collapsing back into the sofa because his spine disappears - vertebra by vertebra.

"Typically, yes. Space dementia, though, no. It first gained popularity on Earth in the early 2000's - the biggest government space organization back then was NASA. Their guidelines still stand - when someone in space displays clear symptoms of space dementia, you're supposed to-"

"Stabilize their torso and bind their legs and arms with duct tape, I remember that," Keith mumbles. He actually does recall the term cropping up in some of the late night web searches he did out of boredom and lack of material he actually needed to study.

"Yeah. And they performed experiments on mice, and stuff, where they exposed them to cosmic radiation and they went a little crazy. My dad mentioned it before we went to Kerberos. It was part of our guidelines we had to memorize when we were being tested for the mission, I think he knew more about it than I was required to. So I... it makes the most sense to me, honestly."

Lance has _dementia._ "Can we... quarantine him? Get him to a healing pod?"

Matt frowns. "It's not pathogenic or a bacteria or anything, so, no. It's not an injury, either, just mental deterioration, so, again, no."

Keith's eyes flutter closed. "No..."

"I could be wrong."

 _Trust me when I say I'm in no shape to lead jack shit right now,_ Lance said. " _No..._ " 

_And the distance keeps growing._ Irreparably, it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> space dementia is not real lol  
> also ignore the updates every ten days its been like a year


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmmm this is so depressing fuck i remember why i never managed to finish editing/posting this

### let’s ride our bikes out to the arcade - ii

Apparently both his hopes and his fears are things that cause Keith unbearable distress. He sleeps in the Marmora suit, double checking that Lance's door is locked, because he can't have Pidge or Hunk or anyone else knowing, double checking that his door is locked, because sometimes they can hear his nightmares because they bleed through the walls and then they come after him.

And it starts like this:

He's on a beach. Beaches are the most fascinating, oxymoronic places to Keith, because sand equals sun equals heat and water equals clouds equals cool and the two shouldn't work well together but they do. The sun soaks into Keith's body as he stands there in front of the waves that roll up to his toes but never quite touch him.

Lance is in the water. He's beckoning Keith forward. "Lance?"

"Come on," Lance grins. "I bet I can hold my breath longer than you can."

Keith huffs and wades out, the water shockingly cold even though palm trees fence the beach, suggesting they're somewhere more tropical. He reaches Lance, the waves spraying salt against his suit, but Lance is completely dry, standing up tall like the currents don't even phase him.

They grab their noses and dunk themselves into the water. Keith opens his eyes when he realizes it doesn't sting, finding Lance's blue blue blue irises and drowning in them, drowning in them as the sand shifts under his feet, drowning in them as it seems to hollow out between them, drowning in them and then drowning for real as the water pulls back into the sea and channels through the dip in the sand, channels through his legs and pulls them back into the sea. He's floundering, suddenly, unable to see which way's up as the riptide tears him away from sense and he's rushing into darker darker deeper deeper water where is Lance.

It stops when he hits bars. He can't breathe, still, but his helmet is there, just out of reach, past the metal bars of the certain shade of purple that he knows so well. He glances around - he's in a cage. Lance in his blue armor is there in a corner, staring out into the water. He turns as Keith notices him, calm concern gracing his eyes when they make eye contact.

Holes explode in Lance’s armor - bullets, red blood billowing out and clouding the water. Keith wants to throw up. But Lance doesn’t even blink. Like it’s not even happening.

Keith's eyes start to close and his limbs go numb as Lance swims toward him. Lance's gloved hands are sliding through Keith's hair, up his jaw, pulling his face forward, and then they're kissing, _really_ kissing this time as their feet find ground, as water and blood drains from the Blue Lion's maw closing around them.

Lance backs Keith up the ramp and toward the cockpit, breaking away only once to pull his chestplate up and off. He's kissing Keith again, hungrily, expertly, as the underside of Keith's knees hit the seat and he falls into it, as Lance straddles him and crowds him against the back, as Lance's palm brushes against the heavy disk of the Marmora suit against the arteries in Keith's neck, sending electric stutters down his spine. Keith's breath flutters in his chest, Lance's fingers winding into Keith's long hair. Except then he opens his eyes and..

And it's not Lance, it's

Matt. 

Keith recedes into the chair of the Blue Lion, pulling his chin back into himself and down toward his chest, but Matt's chasing after him, seeking his lips.

"Wait," Keith mumbles, fumbling as he gets a good grip on Matt's shoulders, twisting out of the seat so he's standing. "Wait."

"We can stop whenever, only as long as you're cool with it," Matt says, raising his hands. The same shit Keith's heard a thousand times, because he's never _been_ not cool with it, but this- this-

"Yeah," Keith mumbles, his heart in his throat. "Where did. Where did Lance go?"

"Lance is - what do you mean? He's gone."

"Gone?"

Then there's air around him as Blue ejects him.

He lands on his feet, embraced in Hunk's arms. "Hey, dude," Hunk says as Keith blinks with the sudden change in surroundings. "I'm sorry. You know how Holts are. They're pretty hardcore."

Keith wants to laugh. "Oh, yeah, they are," he mumbles, leaning into the warmth. It's welcome after the cold cold ocean. "Where's Lance?"

"I'm sorry, Keith. I guess Matt isn't the best at phrasing things in the most sensitive way, but he's right. Lance is gone."

"That's exactly what he said," Keith complains. "What do you mean, _gone?_ "

"He's dead, Keith." Pidge. Pidge's voice. Keith looks up, barely able to see past Hunk's shoulder. Their eyes are glistening.

"Funny joke."

"He is! I saw it-"

"You're wrong."

"What are you going to do to keep Voltron going?"

Keith breaks away from the hug to face the source of the new voice, eyes traveling distastefully up and down Nyma's lean-muscled body.

"We need a new Red Paladin. Who are you going to pick?"

No. Not this. He's already had to replace _one_ Paladin, seen the switching around of Lions _three different times_. He can't handle doing it again. He starts shaking his head.

Nyma lets out an exasperated sigh. "What kind of leader... no wonder your species keeps getting new chances and blowing them over."

"What are you talking about?" Keith strains.

Koidra steps into view - everything is cloudy except this small bubble they seem to be in. "I'll take over the Black Lion. Nyma, you will pilot the Red Lion. Chlom can pilot the Yellow Lion and Juerr will take the Green Lion. Matt, you have experience with Voltron, so your job is to help us get the hang of things as the Blue Paladin."

"What are you doing?" Keith snaps, stepping back.

Koidra doesn't even address him, making eye contact with Pidge instead. "You're the reasonable one. Keep Keith calm. And give Juerr your bayard, if you please."

"Hold your ground, Pidge," Keith spits. "You're not getting Voltron, Koidra."

"You're incapable," Koidra says. "If you truly are Defenders of the Universe, you'll do what's best for it and allow more professional hands to take the steering from here."

"I think you're worse for it. Even more than Jouxd," Keith snarls.

"The baby?"

"No, the other one." Sarcasm. Gets the point across. What kind of name like Jouxd would still prompt Koidra to clarify that it's the baby Keith is referring to? Perfect example of the stupidity that would make him a terrible Paladin. As if his repugnant personality isn't enough.

"Keith, just go with it," Matt murmurs in his ear, sliding his arm securely around Keith's waist as the ghost of his breath across his ear sends tingles down his spine. Then he presses his lips to the corner of Keith's mouth - soft - sweet - completely unwanted -

"Get off." Keith squirms, pushing Matt away. "Just get off!" His eyes lock onto Matt's armor, and suddenly he's clawing at it, pulling at it fruitlessly because he's not even pulling it up he's just pulling it towards him and that's not gonna... "take it off," and his throat starts to thicken, "take it off, it's his, you're wearing his armor and his color and touching me and I'm not yours if anyone's and you're in his Lion and friends with his friends-"

"Whoa, Keith, calm down-"

"Fuck off!" He shoves Matt away and draws his bayard, leveling it at Koidra's chest. "You're not getting Voltron."

"Are you going to kill me, boy?" Koidra taunts, but not with enough conviction, passively, so it feels even worse, somehow - like Keith's decisions are so unimportant he can't even waste time mocking them. "You don't have the heart. You won't be able to live with it."

"Oh, try me," Keith scoffs. "I've killed hundreds of Galra soldiers. You're not special."

"Yes, but I'm not Galra. But then again, if you're human enough to kill your own kin, maybe you're Galra enough to kill other species for your own gain."

It hits hard.

Drives home.

It has Keith hesitating, and that's all Koidra needs, apparently, to take the cue to walk forward and push past Keith's blade toward the maw of the Black Lion.

"We're going to go now," Koidra calls. And when Keith sees the Black Lion's eyes light up, when he sees the head bending, when he sees the jaw widening, when he feels the weight shifting as his sword morphs into a gun, when Koidra's just one more step away from crossing the threshold into the Black Lion - that's when he shoots.

That's when rays of deep purple concentrated light explode and condense into a pure beam of death as they spiral towards the Commander.

That's when Keith realizes he's a murderer.

Someone grabs his hand, standing close so Keith can feel their heat next to him. He turns his head up to face Lance, who looks over and smiles at him. Then he lets go of Keith's hand and jogs ahead down the semicircular room to go talk to Nyma, his fluid movements beautifully lit in the soft, pulsing blue light. Matt takes Keith's hand instead, pulling him closer. "They seem pretty happy over there, don't they?"

Keith looks down at their hands, uncomfortably tracing the outline of their intertwined fingers. "I guess."

"You cool if we... maybe kiss, or something?"

Keith glances up, his eyes tired. No, he's not. "You want to?"

"Well... they're about to, so if we go for it first..."

It makes total sense in Keith's head when he knows it shouldn't, because the two shouldn't be related. But Matt's right - they are, as if in slow motion - Lance is leaning in, his eyes down on Nyma's lips as she slowly lets her eyelids fall shut. And shit - shit shit shit, no. It slows down even more -

"Keith, you haven't made a move and this _is_ my move. Don't leave me hanging."

Keith looks back at Matt, panic starting to edge into his chest. "I haven't made a move?"

"Yes. On Lance. We both know he's what you're after."

"I never told you that."

"But you know it."

Fuck, Keith does know it. Lance and Nyma are still inching closer - they're in a separate bubble of time, where everything is thick and syrupy. Keith swallows. _Don't kiss..._

"Come on. Either go for him, or continue doing this with me. Him or me. Him or me." Matt's words echo as the pulsating lights brighten a little too much, too harsh, too blue - it hurts Keith's eyes. Matt's lips are converging with his, too - no... wait... he doesn't want to... "him or me," but Matt's mouth isn't moving...

"Lance!" he calls out - and the bubble breaks, all the bubbles break, noise finally filtering in as they meet eyes through the crowd.

"Him or me." It still rings in his ears like Matt's still talking, but he isn't.

Keith pulls his hand out of Matt's fingers and steps confidently forward, his frown deepening as he approaches Lance.

"Keith?" Lance asks slowly, eyes flickering back to Nyma.

Keith glances back once more at Matt. Either he can keep playing this game Matt wants to play on Nyma, keep playing this game on Lance and hoping it works on him too, or he can. Or he can just go for it, go for it right now, because he's standing in front of Lance and looking up at his blue eyes.

"Something you wanted to say?"

"Yeah," Keith mumbles, his heart trying to jump out of his throat as he swallows it down thickly and leans forward, curling his fingers around Lance's neck and into his hair, bringing him down and slotting their lips together.

The surroundings dissolve into white as Keith's eyes close, Lance's hands coming up to his back and squeezing their bodies together. Keith gasps as Lance slides his tongue into his mouth, pushing forward so Keith's bent slightly backward over Lance's arms. And then he's gone, suddenly, Keith falling as his support disappears into a chair. He can feel the metal rods that support it through the worn cushion.

Matt comes up to him from the other end of a white white hallway, dressed in powder blue uniform. "I'm sorry, sir, we can't allow you to visit Lance at this time. He doesn't remember you."

"What? I don't care," Keith strains, his voice hoarse, his eyes burning. Matt pulls his clipboard into his chest to speak to Keith more directly.

"Sir, we'll take him from here. He'll live out the rest of his days happily in a rehabilitation center. I suggest you go home now."

Like hell. "I don't care that he has dementia! Let me see him. Let him come home," Keith demands.

Matt frowns. "You'll have to learn to deal with his disability-"

"I don't care."

"He won't remember-"

"I don't care."

"It'll be difficult to-"

" _I don't fucking care!_ " Let him see Lance. Let him see Lance. Let him see Lance...

"Okay, sir. As long as you understand the risks."

Matt turns and walks back down the hall. Keith rises and follows him, shoving past him and running when he sees Lance in bed through a window on his right. He rushes through the room and halts at Lance's side, kneeling down and slowly, hesitantly extending a hand forward. Lance is watching him, the nonrecognition harsh on his features.

"Lance," Keith whispers, gently weaving his fingers into Lance's hair. "Lance..."

Lance's expression pinches in concentration. "Keith?"

Keith smiles. "Yeah. It's me. I'm Keith. Remember me?"

Lance frowns. "I feel like I should."

Keith wants to cry. "Yeah. But it's okay. You're okay."

"You're pretty attractive," Lance murmurs, eyebrows jumping up and down.

Keith lets out a choked laugh, dropping his eyes down. "Can't stop flirting, even in the hospital, can you?"

"Must be one of my traits."

Keith keeps staring at the pristine white sheets, his vision blurring slightly. "It definitely is." He keeps pulling through Lance's hair, letting its silky smoothness spill through his fingers and the edges drag down his palm with how short it is. "One of your most obnoxious qualities."

"Aw. But it works, doesn't it?" The barest trace of Lance's fingers trailing down Keith's jaw has him shivering.

"Like a charm." Keith smiles again, for Lance's sake, even as his heart keeps breaking smaller and smaller.

"Brilliant." Lance closes his eyes. Keith leans his head down to Lance's chest, listening to his heartbeat. It's so strong, so young, so in contrast to the fact that he's lying in a hospital bed.

"I'm never going to leave you, Lance," Keith murmurs as he closes his eyes and hugs him as tightly as he can from his position. "Even if you go months without remembering my name, I'm never going to let you go."

"Keith."

"Keith!"

"Keith!!!" There's pounding on the door.

Keith curls his body around Lance in a stupid effort to hide from the noise.

"Keith, god damn it, this is important."

The pounding slowly filters in, pulling him out of unconsciousness, keeping him from falling back into dream and hugging his pillow until he realizes it's not actually that loud, and that the voice is Pidge from the other side of his door.

He sits up, groaning. He _hates_ sleeping deeply, but the Marmora suit doesn't exactly give him the option of his usual light sleep. He rubs at his face before standing, zombielike, letting the door open.

Pidge huffs on the other side before trailing their eyes up and down his body. Keith instantly realizes his mistake as they whistle at the skin-tight suit.

"Nice breast lights," they comment, and Keith groans, turning away. "I've never seen this before, what kind of fucking pajamas..??"

"Why did you wake me up in the middle of the night," Keith sighs.

"Night is just a concept. This is important." They decide to invite themselves to Keith's room and plant themselves on the bed, wrinkling their nose. "Ugh, Keith! How much do you sweat in your sleep?"

He doesn't. He doesn't fucking sweat in his sleep that much - it's because of all the nights Pidge chose to barge into his room, they chose the one when he's been purposely going through nightmare after nightmare because it helps him figure shit out. "What do you want."

"So you know how Chlom said-"

"Ugh."

"- that the most ancient language is Sanskrit, and that very few planets use that today? Well, Earth does."

"What, are you a linguist now?"

"Stop being moody and sarcastic. This is actually really cool."

"What, is it going to help us kill Lotor in two weeks? Three? Or something like that?" Keith doesn't know. He's tired. He doesn't want to think about that right now.

"No."

"Then I don't care."

"Keith-" Pidge stops short, staring at him with a distressed expression. " _Please_... just..."

Keith looks at them, their eyes, their eyebrows pinched up and their mouth slightly open. A flicker of guilt lights up in him - they _did_ just want to tell him something. He hasn't been as connected with everyone as he used to be. Pidge, for example. They were really close once. What happened? "Sorry," he sighs. "What is it?"

Pidge still frowns for a few more seconds before looking down at their knees and continuing. "Sanskrit. They use it in India on Earth. And that sphinx who tested us when we had to find the Yalexian Pearl? Said it visited Earth once, and tested humans, and we failed before?"

 _No wonder your species keeps getting new chances and blowing them over,_ Brain-Nyma said. "Yeah, I remember that," Keith says.

"Well, chess originated in India. Sanskrit is from ancient India. Indian mythology tells tales about ancient wars between god-like powers, and records from other parts of the world suggest they noticed some weird shit going on in the sky, like lights and stuff, at around the same time period. People on the modern Earth are always going to India for enlightenment. The German Nazis were exploring space travel and they took Vedic Texts from India to study before burning them. I just... I thought it was interesting." Pidge's voice fades out to something much softer with their last sentence.

Keith nods, his old love for deduction sparking up. "That is pretty interesting. What, aliens were on Earth and waged war before fucking off, and the humans adapted all that alien culture from them?"

"Well, Earth is definitely connected to the rest of the universe," Pidge says. "In the time I spent way back then looking for my family, I figured out that universally they call our solar system System X-9-Y, or, at least, the Galra do. And, you know, Allura used to suggest the former Paladins had some dark history. Obviously the Galra knew Earth existed, because they captured Earth astronauts, but the only two encounters we know of with the Galra have been out near Kerberos."

Keith's brain starts to warm up a little as Pidge talks. "Coran told me we'd definitely know if the Galra visited Earth, because they destroy everything in their path. With advanced space travel like that, there's no way the Galra just accidentally missed Earth for a year."

"And this castle has Earth on its map of the universe, despite the fact it was last updated likely 10,000 years ago. Definitely before Earth space travel. Unless there were aliens on Earth. And the Commander said that primitive races often find comfort in naming more advanced races god, so it makes sense that mythology from Earth would hold hints of extraterrestrial visitation, doesn't it?"

It does, actually, which lights up Keith's brain in an old way he missed. "Yeah, okay. So. Along those lines, haven't you wondered why Alfor built Voltron in the first place? It's like the Galra empire is the only universal conflict in history, because, I guess, it's the biggest. But there had to have been a reason the Alteans built Voltron, especially if it was a time of peace as everyone makes it sound now. I mean, 10,000 years of a single race taking over the entire universe is a perfect opportunity to cover up what might have been going on before, isn't it?"

"Yes!" Pidge pumps their fist in the air. " _That's_ my bright red conspiracy theorist friend!"

Keith rolls his eyes. "I'm not a conspiracy theorist."

"Can't hear you over the sound of me ripping a tablecloth off this board I put together using red string and shitty grainy images that leads to the Blue Lion of Voltron."

Keith laughs, and Pidge stops dead, their entire teasing demeanor cutting off. "What?" Keith asks as they stare at him.

They slump forward, elbows on their knees to hold themselves up. "I don't even remember the last time you laughed. It was definitely before Blueshift."

Keith just stares back. He still laughs. Doesn't he? Has he stopped laughing? He can't really recall a moment recently where he actually laughed, for _real_ , so he guesses he has.

"I think the Alteans might have been waging intergalactic war before the Galra took over," Pidge says, picking the topic back up to diffuse the sudden lull in conversation. "I think they must have visited Earth before. It must have been an Altean who hid the Blue Lion there. And I think Alfor must have built Voltron as a weapon to take over all these warring planets with, to enforce peace. There must have been a reason he named Zarkon the Black Paladin. And then, I don't know, maybe Zarkon thought he was better than Alfor, and decided to take it upon himself, but Galra are so driven, they get so easily carried away, and, like, next thing you know the entire universe runs on GAC."

“He did seem to have a personal vendetta against Alteans,” Keith murmurs. “All of them.”

“Maybe Alteans were a warlike people. Allura said Alteans believe in peace first, but… then we have the training gladiator, where a level fit for a child consistently kicked our asses for weeks. Maybe their idea of peace is different than ours.”

Keith nods. “So, what. Alteans wage war across the universe. Alfor and the Paladins want to win them all, they build Voltron.”

“I mean, what if, right?” Pidge says. “And then Zarkon was sick of it, decided Alteans fight too much, kill their own species off, so he tries to seize control of Voltron to use it to end Alteans. Add that to your typical Galra determination, you end up with universal domination, which, to them, is peace and unity. Allura said Zarkon’s searching for Voltron because he knows it’s the only thing that can defeat him, right?”

“Because he knows it’s a threat to universal peace,” Keith sums up. Then he chuckles. “You’re making the Galra into the good guys.”

"Well, that's the thing, isn't it? There are no good guys and bad guys in history. We aren't heroes fighting for the light. We're just fighters on the side of what we think is correct, just like the Galra. And of the two of us, the Galra have more of the full story than we do. Isn't it curious that humans, one of the most war-prone races to ever grace the universe, according to the Commander, are the successors to all the Altean Paladins? And of course, the one Paladin we know for sure was Galra, has always had a part-Galra successor. I mean, Allura didn't last very long."

Keith smirks, sitting down on the other end of the bed. “What are you gonna do with that theory if it turns out King Alfor was the only Altean Paladin?”

Pidge returns the expression. “Come up with a better one. The truth will out.”

Keith lets his eyes close. “Katie, Katie, Katie.” He inhales deeply, thinking about his dreams again.

“Been hanging out with Matt too much.”

Keith looks over at them. “What?”

“He’s the only one who still calls me Katie. I don’t actually care, but it’s still weird when anyone else says it. Gone by Pidge for so long.” They look a little sad, or wistful.

Keith shrugs.

“Seriously, though, what are you wearing? What is that?”

Keith glances down at the suit. “It’s the suit I wore during the Trials of Marmora.”

“What?”

“When we went to the Blade of Marmora. They wanted us to leave, but I refused to go back without knowing about the knife. They kept saying I stole it. So then they were like, if you want knowledge, you’ll have to go through doors. And after every door there’s more and more Galra to fight, so I just kept going, and then I passed out. And the suit is supposed to make you face your greatest hopes and your greatest fears. So I put it on sometimes.”

“What the fuck. Wait. You were down there just fighting the Galra for two quintents?”

“I guess so?”

“Jesus. And now you regularly go through self-inflicted emotional abuse so you can… what.”

“It’s not abuse. It helps me clear my head. Figure things out.”

“Uh-huh.” Pidge looks skeptical. “That’s kind of fucked up. That’s why you were screaming bloody murder a few hours ago?”

“Maybe?”

Pidge rolls their eyes. “So what were you dreaming about?”

“La…” Keith trails off. Does he want to tell Pidge?

“La...nce?”

Keith winces. “No.”

“You’re the worst liar.”

“I know, but I’m not lying this time…”

“Jeez, stop, don’t even try. What, are you afraid something’s seriously wrong with him, or are you hoping he’ll start showing up to meetings?”

Keith glances over at Pidge, remembering that, oh, yeah, this Lance thing is a problem for other people that aren’t him too. “Both, I guess.”

“He’s fine, you know. He ate dinner with us today, which is - just saying - more than you can say for yourself. He was totally normal. Asked us what he missed, flirted with Viyyx, complained about you. Don’t worry too much, he probably just misses Earth,” Pidge shrugs.

Oh, if only they knew. “Yeah,” Keith sighs.

They sit in silence for a bit. Then Pidge stands up. “Nice talking to you after so long. You spend too much time alone, nowadays. We miss you.”

We miss you.

_We love you._

Filed under: things Pidge has said that never fail to warm his spirits.

“After just a little longer, we’ll kill Lotor,” Keith says. “I’ll catch up with you guys then.”

Pidge salutes him. “Whatever you say, Black Paladin.”

Keith smiles as they turn and leave.

### someone who, above all else, you kind of fall in love with - iv

Keith yanks off his helmet, letting himself laugh for the first time in forever, because Pidge was right, he has stopped laughing. He opens his eyes slowly, rolling his head over to look at Lance, who's watching him with a fond smile and a faint blush. The bioluminescent plants light everything in pale electric blue, and fluorescent red, and flaming violet, accentuating every gorgeous angle of Lance's lean form.

God. Keith shouldn't have given Lance the Red Lion. Every time he sees those broad shoulders in red armor - _his_ armor, the same suit with the same shock lines from the same druid blasts he took to rescue the same blue eyed boy - it stabs something warm and achy into his heart, and he never wants to look away. Lance is beautiful in blue, but, oh, god, in _red..._

"Told you it would be worth it," Lance smirks, and Keith steps closer, his heart dancing. Is still worried about the dementia. Is still half waiting for Lance to say something that doesn’t add up, or claim that he doesn’t remember Keith’s face, but he seems to be doing just fine. Is ready for it, is cautious of it, but is having so much fun right now nonetheless.

"They're probably looking for us," Keith reasons, and it dampens his mood somewhat as he finally takes the time to step back and tally up all the things he has to do - he has so many responsibilities, now, so many ship routes to keep track of in preparation for the second assault, so much training, so much _teaching,_ endlessly going over the plans, dealing with Koidra and Matt and the other Quasar officials about technicalities, remembering to eat and drink right on top of it all... weeks must have passed by now. They're not even a hundred percent certain Lotor is still where he is. The attack is set for just a few days from now. He should be getting back, honestly, and it’s not like the responsibilities are _new_ to him, but they’ve racked up and he’s rushing between them tenfold compared to how busy he thought he was just a week ago. And here he is, out on this moon because Lance asked. Because it’s the first time Lance has approached him in so many weeks.

"Who cares?" Lance laughs. "We're Paladins of Voltron. We don't need to take orders from anyone." Then he bows with an exaggerated flourish, teasing, "except for you, my liege."

Keith's lips pull up at the corners. It's twilight on the moon they're at. His flesh is still singing from the race - god, he hasn't flown fast for the hell of it since the _Garrison._ Every cell in his body is alive with breath and life and love. "Yeah." He turns to look up at the sky. Stars are already peeking through the dusk. They're bright here. He inhales again - so few of the planets they visit have a breathable atmosphere, and it's beautifully refreshing to be able to breathe in a natural environment. The air is sweet. "I win," he tosses out lightly.

"No way," Lance laughs, his voice close behind Keith as he drapes his arms over Keith's shoulders, wrapping him up tightly. "You know I totally won that.” They actually _tied,_ but it’s very much just tradition now for them to insist otherwise.

Keith closes his eyes, kneeling down and dipping his head lower so he can smell the soil. It’s so sweet and familiar - “Matt was right,” Keith says, his voice thick. “It’s so much like Earth up here. God.”

“Minus all the freaky plants, yeah,” Lance laughs, taking a seat next to Keith. “They’re pretty, though.”

Keith lies back and stares up at the clouds, small tufts of them here and there. The edges are illuminated in orange from the closest star, its contrast to their deep purple hues so familiar it causes Keith’s throat to catch as he struggles to keep his composure. “I never actually had all this where I grew up. I’ve never been in a forest. At all, actually. After my dad left I just lived at the Garrison. But the greenhouse there was like this. And the desert sunsets, they were so…” He tilts his head toward where there are the barest hints of sunlight - starlight, he corrects himself - thin rays peeking through the branches of the glowing trees. He fingers a leaf close to his head, the edges of it lit up like fiber optics. The bright blue pulses and flares a violent red at his touch, and he laughs again.

Lance leans back as well, rolling over onto his stomach so he’s looking down at Keith from a slightly higher angle. “Let’s go find the beach,” he says, his voice the thinnest film of nonchalance, barely concealing the bubbling energy and anticipation he radiates. Keith nods, and Lance jumps back to his feet, grabbing Keith's hands and pulling him up and _running._ The feeling still nags at his stomach - he has to get back, this is the worst time to leave - but _Lance._

Running fast, the blue and red and purple blurring around them as they charge through the trees.

It’s not far, Keith knows…

They flew over it before setting down in the forest…

There.

It takes just a few minutes to get there - they push through the shrubbery and step out onto purple-grey and white variegated sand, powerful ocean waves crashing against the shore. The thick smell of salt makes Keith wrinkle his nose and Lance inhale deeply as it fronts up against them. Calls of actual seagulls - _seagulls _\- pierce through the soft breeze. A small glowing blue crab scuttles away from his boot as he steps forward, and he grins.__

_He chances a look over at Lance, surprised to see him _crying_ , his other hand clamped over his mouth, his eyebrows pinched up. He lets it fall away from his face, a small laugh ripping free of his lips, thick with marbled emotion. He shakes his fingers free of Keith's, stepping forward cautiously._

_And then he’s running, sprinting forward, kicking up sand in arcs of glittering dust, meeting the tumbling waves and laughing so loudly it rolls over the crash and roar of water, bouncing around the energy in the air and settling bright and full into Keith’s bones. Keith smiles, stepping forward to meet the water - it’s a short strip of sand, no more than twenty feet wide at any point but stretching endlessly in either direction, and when he bends down to let the water split through the gaps between his fingers, it’s cool and slightly gritty from the swirling granules of sand and fragmented shells. He remembers his dream, thinking about Lance, thinking about being pulled out to sea, thinking about kissing him..._

_He knows what he’s gonna do. As soon as Lotor is defeated - as soon as they’re free. He just has to wait it out or these last few days and _then_ , after they win…_

_Water hits his face suddenly and he gasps, backing up so fast that he loses purchase over the shifting sand and falls on his ass, sinking several centimeters down. He opens his eyes wide and glances up at Lance, his mouth pulling open as he regains his breath, mesmerized with the happiness and mischief twinkling in Lance’s eyes. He can see the edge of the system’s star out over the water’s horizon as it sinks into the sea, but Lance outshines it - sparkling droplets flying through the air as they crash against his legs and arch against his outstretched arms._

_“Your face,” Lance wheezes, and Keith grins, cupping his hands and swinging them through the water. It’s weak, nowhere near as effective as Lance’s, and he pays for it far too unfairly when Lance splashes more water and it hits him in the face again, drops snaking through his hair and trickling down his spine underneath his armor._

_They splash at each other until they’re both soaked through to the bone, and they eventually ditch their armor until they’re there in the tough grey undersuits alone. Lance dives under again and again, resurfacing and shooting Keith dazzling smiles - Keith settles on the beach so he’s half submerged and watches._

_After some time Lance walks up and drops down behind him, leaning over and letting his head fall on Keith’s shoulder. “I never want to go back,” he says in a small voice, and Keith’s heart twinges with both fondness and the pressing reminder that he really, _really does_ need to head back. Soon. Preparations for their second assault have been sped up tenfold under his direction, and although it was his own decision after fighting about it with Koidra, it’s been draining him - maybe that’s the reason Lance challenged him and raced him all the way up here, but it just means he’s probably missed ten different meetings by now. He glances over at his helmet - there’s a faint blue glowing rectangle over the visor, people are probably trying to radio him - he turns his face up to the sky where the stars are brighter now and surrounded by steadily deepening blue - they’re not even far enough away from Quasar’s Blueshift base that they’ll need to jump back via teludav - he’s sure he can see it, if he knew which pinprick of light was where they need to be right now. He can enjoy Lance’s company later, after all this is done - man, is he planning to do just that. But until then…_

_“Stop,” Lance whines, bringing up a hand and settling it lazily over Keith’s eyes. Keith turns his head away from Lance's cold fingers, frowning. “Just take a break. Have you noticed what you’ve been like lately? You’re obsessed with Heptavitrine and Lotor. You don’t talk to any of us anymore.” Lance straightens and brings up his hands, letting one rest on Keith’s left shoulder and pulling the other through Keith’s hair. “You literally haven’t cut your hair once since we left Earth.” Keith closes his eyes and winces as Lance’s fingers snag in Keith’s tangled hair - he hasn’t exactly been combing through it every day. “Why can’t you relax, Keith? You’re killing yourself.”_

_“I’ll relax when Lotor’s dead and the empire is finished,” Keith sighs, slumping forward and stabilizing his elbows against his knees as he pulls them in so he’s sitting cross-legged. Lance’s hand drops from his shoulder in favor of his hair, both his hands combing through the tangles._

_“Dude. Who knows what’s going to happen if we kill Lotor? There’s going to be a power vacuum, you realize that, right? Koidra is going to want to take control, I’m guessing, and then there’s the leader of Redshift - who even _knows_ who that is - and then there’s us, and of course all the Galra commanders left behind. We don’t know where Haggar is right now and how she might change the game. There’s so much going on, you can’t honestly be planning to take a break after we beat Lotor, assuming we even do.” Keith frowns. He doesn’t want to have this discussion, not with Lance. He’s honestly surprised Lance has been thinking about all this, between the missing meetings and the… dementia…_

_He _knows_ all of that. He knows he won’t get to relax after - but that doesn’t mean he can relax before. Really, he doesn’t need to relax at all. Nobody ever wins a fucking war by _relaxing,_ of _course_ he knows he can’t relax. Why does Lance want him to? If there’s anything Allura taught them it’s that they have to stay on their toes. And as for the power vacuum - he’s already been suspecting that the transition away from Galra rule is going to be rocky since their first day with Quasar, since Koidra’s comment about the Galra. He doesn’t like it. He’s positive that there’s a hidden agenda with the rebel alliance, and he’s not sure if Matt is in on it at all or not. “We’re definitely going to beat him, there’s no question about that,” he decides to say, opting not to address all the other shit. Relax… well, he’ll let Lance know how he feels after they kill Lotor. But that’s..._

_It’s apparently the wrong thing to say. Lance keeps pulling his fingers through Keith’s hair, but he sounds agitated. “God, give that soldier brain a rest for once. I get it. You’re determined to save the universe and all that. Great. Whatever. But this-” he leaves Keith’s hair and gestures at the ocean in front of them, the glowing trees behind them- “is something we deserve to enjoy. I want to go back to Earth one day, Keith, and I like spending time with you guys because I like to feel that I’m not alone, especially since, you know, fucking _relativity_ and…”_

_He fades off, and Keith opens his eyes to stare at the water lapping at his knees._

_“I mean, who _knows_ how many of my old friends and family are even still alive, or where they are in life, what they’re doing, what they were told about all of us by the Garrison-”_

_He falters again, and Keith keeps gazing at the patterns swirling in the sand. It’s considerably darker now. Blue sky is fading to black and small bioluminescent blue crabs are emerging from the sand around them, little bright purple specks swimming around in groups where the water is deeper - they can only be schools of fish, Keith guesses._

_“And you just. You’re like a blazing torpedo, just spearing through everything so fast, and I need you to just _stop_ and _relax_ before we all go crazy. Are you even aware of the fact that the last time we talked was three days ago? I mean, what have you even been doing?” Keith doesn't say it - doesn't acknowledge the fact that Lance spends most of his time shut up alone because he doesn't want to draw suspicion, or doesn't want to let on that he’s got _dementia_ , or _something.__

_He pulls in a long breath and exhales slowly. The water is sapping away his body heat, and his suit is cold and wet and heavy now. “I eat dinner with you-”_

_“No, you don’t.”_

_“Yeah, I do. I come to the parties.”_

_“You eat dinner at ungodly hours of the night, and you get away with it because you’re constantly on a warpath to our next attack and none of the cooks would say no to you. You come to our parties, but you don’t interact with any of the aliens that look up to you - I get it, diplomacy isn’t your thing, but all you ever _do_ is - you just sit and fucking _drink_ and talk to Koidra about shit that needs to - you’ve gotta do this, or that, or get this done, or go to this meeting, always, just.”_

_“Stop yelling at me,” Keith says helplessly, because he’s _tired._ Lance falls silent and then leans forward again, wrapping his arms around Keith’s shoulders and pulling him tight against his chest. Keith leans back and lets himself feel Lance’s heartbeat against his spine. Life. Lance pulls Keith’s hair out in front and continues twirling his fingers through them._

_He was actually having a nice time out here, and he doesn’t want it to end like this._

_“I do interact with the planets we visit,” he says roughly. “I go over everything with Matt. He’s good with history and maps and places and all that, maybe it’s because he’s so interested in the medical technology throughout the universe. But I do. I care about what we’re doing, Lance.”_

_Lance doesn’t respond._

_“Lance?” His hands have stilled in Keith’s hair._

_Lance shudders out a long sigh, sliding his fingers out of Keith’s locks without even bothering to finish stroking all the way through. “Right. Of course.” He stands, and Keith twists around to look up at him. His eyes are shaded and angled away so all Keith can see clearly is his jaw and nose from this angle, but his voice is something quiet and bitter and so _sad…_ “Matt.” He turns, striding back toward where their armor lies in the sand. “How could I forget? The only reason even you and I are here at all is because of him, isn’t it?”_

_“Lance?” Keith calls out, his heart twisting sickeningly in his chest. He wants to reach out, wants to pull him back, wants his arms back around him. He pulls himself up from the sand and runs to catch up to him. “I don’t…”_

_“Here,” Lance says abruptly, pushing Matt’s orange scarf into Keith’s chest. “Since you were so careful not to get this wet.” Keith frowns - he hadn’t even noticed he was wearing it earlier when they flew over here. “Really low-key bitter that this is the moment you chose to get all cozy with the Blue Paladin, but whatever about that.” Keith stares at him, slowly shaking his head, frowning, _baffled…_ “Like, I get it.” He hands Keith’s armor to him piece by piece as he pulls on his own. “You’re into that sort of - whatever, you know? We’re in space, who cares about gender, all of that, I don’t know just. Do your thing. But it would have been cool if I could have maybe known you were like that like, a little bit before, maybe, I dunno, before we - things _really_ started going to shit, and I don’t know _what_ happened, maybe I fucked up, that you totally stopped…” What is he _talking about…_ Keith’s mind flickers for a second to the article on dementia Matt showed him, but no, this doesn't sound like that..._

_“Lance-” Keith tries to cut in, but it scarcely makes it out of his throat and Lance keeps going, his voice tight and choking back so many emotions Keith is utterly unable to follow._

_“I mean, what, you and Matt. You’re a thing, aren’t you? Romantically or something?”_

_Lance looks at him expectantly, and Keith is lost for words. What does he say? They’re not. They’re really not, because Keith’s crush on Lance is still definitely a thing, and Matt’s and Nyma’s weird half-relationship is still definitely a thing, which Keith understands better and better as he gets to know Matt more, and how conflicted Matt is about the whole thing… but also, Keith has been playing along for the hell of it because Matt is _nice_ and who cares if neither of them are actually interested? It’s nice and comfortable and it’s not like they ever do anything more than stand close to each other in public, and then watch Nyma closely so Matt can stress about it and figure out if it’s working once Keith and he are alone again… the dreams he had about them were bad, but that was because they were his fears…_

_Keith’s thoughts are rambling, blowing forward, because Lance is throwing him for a spin and he doesn't understand what he’s looking for… And he doesn’t know if he’s supposed to tell Lance any of this…_

_He just opens his mouth and stares at Lance, nothing coming out, and watches the expression on that fresh face recede even further into stone. _And the distance keeps fucking growing…__

_“Whatever. Really. Just, I sort of thought I… that you… maybe seeing as you and I. Okay. Never mind. Keep spending your days holed up with Matt in the communications room staring at maps and doing whatever, I really. Couldn’t care less…” Lance turns and starts heading back the way they’ve come, and Keith follows him numbly, watching as everything crashes and burns in slow motion. He just wanted to race. Just wanted to race, maybe tell him how he felt if the battle wasn't impending so close. “And for a while I was sort of like… this is nice, you know?” Lance swats a plant, causing the purple light to flare red at the contact. Keith’s head spins. He doesn’t know why it _hurts_ so much to listen to Lance saying this shit when he doesn’t even understand what any of it means. “But obviously, _Matt_ is the one who said ‘Moon 247 in the Lir system is a lot like Earth, by the way, we should check it out together sometime. It reminds me of home.’ And at first I was ecstatic that it was us but who knows, maybe you’ve already been here…”_

_“Lance,” Keith tries again. “You’re rambling and I have no idea what you’re saying.” Lance is charging ahead, and Keith is struggling through the plants and the rapidly descending darkness to keep Lance’s receding red armor in his sight._

_“Right.” Lance pauses and doesn’t speak again for several minutes. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s coming out of my mouth right now. I’m just… whatever,” he repeats, that word again, _whatever, whatever, whatever,_ and it pangs harshly through Keith’s chest again, “just ignore me. You’ve been doing an excellent job of it your entire life, don’t change for me _now_.”_

_And that’s it, that’s the last sentence that finally stops Keith in his tracks, and he’s suddenly assaulted by fragmented memories of back when Lance was very much focused on being Keith’s rival, and Keith was just forever trying to figure out how he’d created this kind of impression on the cargo pilot he didn’t ever once remember talking to. And it - it hurts. He wonders briefly - is he forgetting? Forgetting these last few years where they’ve gotten pretty tight? Dementia, maybe?_

_He just wanted to _race.__

_Lance is gone. Keith forges ahead again, surprised to find the Red Lion in the clearing with their ships. Did she follow Lance here? She used to do that with Keith a lot. Keith tries to reach out to her, scrambling for any kind of comfort, anything he can hold onto and pretend their little trip didn’t just end in an extravagant shitshow, and he finds nothing._

__Nothing._ _

_He tries again, trying to remember what it used to feel like to blend his mind with hers, to fly with her and fight with her - nothing. Emptiness. Cold, where he’s supposed to find a blazing fire. There’s just the distant pull of the Black Lion, but the Black Lion doesn’t love him, not like Red does - like Red… did._

_He rakes his fingers through his hair, letting out a breath and craning his neck up to stare into the midnight blue of the sky, into the endless expanse of stars. Matt was wrong. This isn’t like Earth - not like the Earth Keith knew, anyway, with its dry winds and fluctuating desert temperatures, with Orion battling his way across the sky._

_And he’s cried too much recently, so the tears don’t come._

_But, god, his heart can’t fucking _move_ with how tightly it squeezes when the ship Lance stole ignites its engines and lifts away from the ground where Keith still stands, turning and shearing through the night, streaking away from him and his shivering body in the cold night air of this moon that’s spinning millions of lightyears from the planet he wishes he was at._

_A lifetime of dreaming of exploring outer space, and when he got the chance, he lost himself in it. And it feels like he just burned down the last bridge that could have helped him find his direction, and now he's just. Lost._

_In space._

_Alone._

### you're all that and i'm - ii

_It's a struggle, but Keith manages to clear up a good three vargas in his schedule about four quintents before they're planning to launch their attack. As soon as he finishes handling an arms shipment with Koidra and Juerr between Blueshift and the Neiyic forces - currently their toughest negotiations and extremely draining to deal with - he goes to Matt in the communications headquarters._

_The man is studying maps again, on the line with someone, probably charting course or sending warnings or confirming stats or something. He does a lot of grueling work too; it feels like he's the only one who knows what Keith goes through on a daily basis, what with his self-proclaimed status as second-in-command. Keith leans against the side of Matt's desk and waits impatiently, tapping his fingers against the surface._

_Matt finally looks up as he gets off the line. "What?"_

_"Get Pidge," Keith says. "There's something important I need to talk to you guys about. Where's Lance?"_

_"No idea." Matt turns to his desk and taps at the hologram, pinging Pidge._

_**Come meet Keith and me in comms.** _

__is it urgent_ _

_"Yes," Keith scowls, and Matt taps in his answer. "And we're meeting in the Castle."_

_**He says yes. Also I lied, meet us at the CoL.** _

__in a minute_ _

_Keith grunts in frustration and reaches for them through Voltron's comms - they never answer, but maybe now that Matt has their attention, they'll acknowledge him too. "Now, Pidge," he growls, earning a groan in response._

_"Fine, on my way."_

_"Get Lance and Hunk if you see them."_

_"The Commander's here."_

_"Fuck him," Keith spits, and Matt raises his eyebrows._

_"Wow," Pidge mutters. "Aren't you with Matt right now? Doesn't he mind that you're lusting after-"_

_Keith blocks them off the Voltron comms before they can continue because he has _zero_ patience for this right now. There's a crackle before their voice returns -_

_"You can't block me, Keith," they laugh. "What the hell?"_

_"Are you coming?"_

_"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming."_

_Keith turns and marches out of the room, Matt tailing him._

_They find Hunk with Flure Bindle, working on his ship with him. "Hunk," Keith calls. "We've got to go."_

_"Go? Go where?" Hunk pokes his head out from the top of the plane._

_"There is not supposed to be a hole there," Matt mumbles._

_Bindle grins from the bottom of the ship. "No, but don't worry too much about it."_

_"You have a Katrell!" Matt strains, his voice flying up a few octaves and going hoarse as he stresses the phrase. "What are you doing to her??"_

_"I'm liberating her from the confines of incompetent engineering," Bindle proclaims righteously._

_"Yeah, you should come check this out," Hunk says. "Flure has this awesome idea-"_

_" _Hunk,_ " Keith says, his voice gaining a razor edge in his impatience._

_"Sorry. Uh, I'll be back," Hunk promises Bindle. "Keith's pretty busy, probably won't be long."_

_He says it so casual, like it's something everyone knows and accepts, and- "what's that supposed to mean?" Keith demands, eyes narrowing. Hunk looks up at him._

_"Oh, you know, you're just always busy. When you do spend time with us, it's for, like, ten minutes."_

_"We're going," Keith commands. "Now. Also, that's not true."_

_"It totally is," Hunk mumbles under his breath, and Keith's about to round on him and fight him about it _right then and there,_ but._

_"Hey, chill out. He has a lot going on. Cut him some slack," Matt says casually. Keith breathes in and out deeply, rubbing his ring._

_"Yeah, okay," Hunk says, putting his greasy hands up. "Let's go... wherever we're going."_

_"Lance," Keith notices, zeroing in on the man, who has his arm slung around one of the point pilots, sitting on a table a few ships away. The girl and he are sharing some alien food vaguely reminiscent of ice cream. He starts in their direction, fists clenching._

_Lance doesn't look up when Keith stops in front of him. Matt catches up, Hunk trailing behind as he exchanges a last few words with Bindle. "What are you doing?" Keith demands, and Lance raises his eyes slowly up to meet Keith's, staring him down for a good twenty seconds._

_Then he presses the girl in closer and grins. "Look who's walking on the same plane as us mortals!"_

_Keith bites down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from throwing back some snarky response. "Castle of Lions, now. This is important." That’s enough. He should stop. He rubs his ring some more._

_Lance shrugs, leans forward, and kisses the pilot on her cheek, and that - that’s what blows him up._

_"I'm here,” he starts, “running around from person to person for the last month, making sure we're ready for our assault in four days, and _you,_ ” He throws one arm forward, gesturing, walking toward Lance, coming closer, “you're relaxing with Blaue, not even in your armor, playing hooky because apparently you don't give a shit about what's to come, because apparently flirting is more important to you than preparing for our final fucking battle, because apparently you don't know how to fucking focus on anything other than the next pretty face."_

_He has Lance's long-sleeve solid blue shirt fisted in his hands. Matt's hand gently lands on his shoulder, but he wrenches it away from him._

_"You need to step up your fucking game and be competent for once in your sorry life." Why is he saying these things? "Rather than showing the nerve to be pissed at me for doing the right thing, you need to step up and take some of it so I don't have to take care of every tiny detail of this fucking alliance. You're not in any place to tell me off for keeping things in order." Lance's fingers are encircling his wrists tightly, trying to pull him off - his eyebrows are furrowing, gaze leveling with Keith's as he stands._

_"Get off me," he says quietly._

_"I'm working my ass off and you don't even have the decency to show up for any of the meetings," Keith growls, pulling Lance’s shirt toward him, grip tight and unrelenting. "Every time I see you, you're chilling with some alien girl. Is this some kind of holiday for you, cargo pilot?"_

_Lance pushes him back, hard, his face blushing slightly pink with anger and his eyebrows furrowed all the way in. "I said, get off me," he says, voice turning dangerous._

_Keith catches his balance and starts forward again, shoving Lance back into the table. There's a loud crash as his arms fly out to catch himself, scattering several items off the surface. "What, what are you gonna do?" he demands. "Just keep flirting with Viyyx and Riah while the rest of us fight toward what really matters here. Why are you even a part of Voltron if you can't handle yourself?" It's boiling over. It's been stewing and stewing and stewing for fucking months and it's too much. He's about to lose it. He's lost it. It's gone._

_"God-" Lance regains his balance and advances forward again, fist pulled back and aimed at Keith's face. "You’re getting mad at me for forming an actual alliance with our allies?" he asks as Keith deflects it with his forearm. "But it's not a problem-" he pulls back again - Keith acts quicker and lands one in his side- "when Pidge stays up all night coding with someone, or when Hunk-" Lance grabs Keith's arm and twists it around- "spends all day working on ships with someone, but it's a problem-" Keith retaliates by kicking him, but wildly misses and his foot scrapes against the side of Lance's arm- "if I make friends."_

_Lance’s fist finally connects with Keith's jaw and he staggers to the side, shifting his jaw left and right, massaging the point of impact. He looks back up and glares at Lance. "That's all that matters to you, isn't it?" He goes for it again - Matt's hands are pulling at him to hold him back, but he rears away from them, grabbing around at the table and finding a pair of goggles, a helmet, some carefully calibrated instruments - he hurls them all at Lance, one after another, plastic and metal flying at Lance and his hair flying in his face and his rage and his pent-up stress flying all over the place._

_Lance cringes as a bulky headset glances off the shoulder he raises to defend his face. "You know why you're so alone, Keith?" he hisses, launching forward again, grappling for a hold on Keith's neck. "You have no family, no room in your tiny soldier heart to learn how to care for one, and all you do is push people away. All you do is stay up with the Commander and the rest of the high and mighty Quasar officials because you're above us, we're just never going to be good enough for you because you're the golden boy. The perfect boy. The image of a star pilot." Lance is somehow behind him, now, arm snaking around and Keith scrambles for balance-_

_"Yeah, what you'll keep dreaming of but will never amount to," Keith struggles out. Lance has him in a headlock, and he's clawing at Lance's forearms, trying to find a steady grip on the ground and on his wrists. "Because you're too unfocused, because you'd rather kiss someone than save their life."_

_"And you'd rather cut everyone out," Lance growls in his ear. Keith's leg hits the table and it knocks over, the lack of support behind them suddenly sending them both sprawling. Lance's headlock doesn't let up. "You'll never know family. Because you don't know how, and you'll never fucking learn. You're never going to have friends, or family, or love-"_

_Keith strains the muscles painfully in his torso and sits up and flips him over his head. Lance lands with a crash amongst the broken computer pieces, shards of glass, bits of wiring... Keith rolls over on top of him, pinning him down, but then Hunk's strong arms are pulling him back, fucking lifting him up in the air as he fights and struggles to break free._

_Matt is massaging his wrist and saying something to Keith that won't pass through the whirlwind of anger and hurt. Riah Blaue is helping Lance sit up, Bindle is offering him a tissue - bloody nose. Keith reaches up to gently massage his throbbing neck, raking in breath after tight, ragged breath. He tries to jerk away from Hunk, but Hunk isn't having it - he remains secure in his iron hold, Pidge's face sliding into view, looking back and forth between him and Lance with some mixture of emotions- emotions-_

_Surprise._

_Confusion._

_Disappointment._

_It’s that last one that makes it through - Pidge is disappointed in him, in Lance, in them. They were doing so good, honestly…_

_The last time they had anything close to an actual fight was probably years ago._

_He guesses they all thought those days were behind them._

_Shit, _Keith_ thought those days were behind them._

_His stomach hurts, from something more than just his screaming muscles. He clutches at it with one hand, the other still pressing gently against his throat._

__You're never going to have friends, or family, or love-_ _

_Yeah._

_He isn’t, is he?_

_Love just isn't in the cards for him. Because something always happens, something always fucking happens and everything blows up spectacularly, explosively wrecking his life._

_He lets his eyes fall closed. "Castle," he mutters. "Let go of me. We're all heading to the Castle."_

_"You sure you're not gonna attack Lance?" Hunk checks, grip unrelentingly firm. God _damn_ it, why does he have to be so strong?_

_Keith shrugs his shoulders, trying to get away. "No," he snaps, face turned toward the floor._

_Matt puts a hand against his shoulder. "It's alright, Hunk," he says. "You guys go ahead. We'll meet you in the Castle."_

_Keith shakes out his arms as Hunk finally releases them, straightening and then immediately curling inward again as the pulled muscles in his stomach scream. "Hnng..." he winces, both hands clutching at his abdomen. Matt is leading him to the empty space between two ships, away from most prying eyes._

_"You're mad," Matt says softly, both hands on Keith's shoulders, bending down slightly to look at him. Keith's long hair is all in his face - he peers up at Matt through it._

_"Yeah."_

_"Angry."_

_"Synonymous."_

_"Stressed out."_

_"Fucking always," Keith sighs. He knows what Matt's doing. He does this sometimes, when life gets too much and Keith feels like he's slipping-_

_"What is it?"_

_"Negotiations with the Neiyic system. Nyma's thrown us all for a loop."_

_"Because of the cannon she stole?"_

_"It wasn't just a cannon." Keith pauses. "I don't want to talk about this more."_

_"Okay. You snapped at Lance."_

_"He was fucking-"_

_Matt shushes him, hand traveling down Keith's arm, pushing it back down to hang at Keith's side again from his angry gesture towards where Bindle is helping Lance._

_"You're jealous, Keith."_

_Keith scowls. "Not."_

_"I don't know if we've ever touched on this outright, but we both know it. You're lying. Not to me, because you suck at that, you’re lying to yourself, and if you keep it up this is going to keep happening."_

_Keith's not lying to himself. He's not. He knows very well why Lance is always on his mind._

_"You're jealous."_

_But he's not _jealous._ He knows he doesn't have a chance with him, so why would he be jealous? He knows what can happen and what can't. He's not jealous over a possibility that really isn't even a possibility._

_"Keith?"_

_"I just don't like seeing him fucking off to play with girls when we all have bigger, better things to do," Keith sighs._

_“Because you’re jealous of them.”_

_Keith throws his hands up in the air._

_“Keith, that’s okay.”_

_“I know it’s okay. Because it’s not true.”_

_“You don’t have to admit it right now, but you are, man, you totally are.” Matt’s face is earnest._

_Keith frowns at him._

_“Castle of Lions?”_

_“Yeah, please, I don’t have a lot of time.” Keith sighs in relief._

_Matt pats him on the back before leading him out. Lance is gone, Bindle and Riah picking up the mess they made. Keith ignores them - he needs to find one thing to focus on, one direction to go in._

__You're never going to have friends, or family, or love-_ _

_If that’s the cost of freeing the universe, then whatever. He’s lived without it for long enough. Shiro was probably the only one with enough patience for him, and now he’s been gone for fucking years, so - whatever. He doesn’t fucking need anyone else._

_Pidge, Hunk, and Lance are waiting in the entrance hall of the Castle of Lions when Matt and Keith finally join them. Keith walks past them, taking the shortest route to the AI room - Coran should already be there._

_He is, when Keith physically pushes the doors open before the castle can do it for him. He’s sitting on the ground, talking to Allura, probably - Keith can’t see the holograms, but they’ll all be able to in a minute. The door closes and the illusion starts to weave itself into their senses - grass pushing up around their feet, sunshine brightening the room, azure skies stretching, a field of purple flowers._

_“We’re ready, Princess,” Keith says as Allura fades into view, smiling. There’s a flurry of mixed reactions from everyone else._

_“Allura’s in the AI?” Pidge is the first to speak._

_“Didn’t you know?” Coran frowns. “Keith’s been coming here for a long time.”_

_“No, he didn’t say a word about any of this to us,” Lance says, voice harsh. Keith tells himself he’s numb to it._

_“I’m here,” Allura confirms. “And you will be too, within the next couple of vargas.”_

_Hunk looks at Keith. “Explanation, _por favor?_ ” Lance elbows him, smirk dancing on his lips. He’s very careful not to look in Keith’s direction._

_Keith inhales, exhales. “Allura and I have decided the AI is a good place to store our memories and knowledge in case something happens to us in battle. The idea is that over the years as Voltron changes Paladins, the advice of the old Paladins will still be available, immortalized. We just take some time after every battle to copy our memories in. It’ll also help with memory loss, in case someone gets fucking amnesia, so we can just recopy the memories back into your brain.” He bites the last sentence out bitterly, watching Lance carefully for his reaction._

_Matt grabs his elbow and squeezes, mumbling, “Keith,” at the same time that Lance winces and drops his gaze to the flowers. Keith narrows his eyes._

_“We can’t afford to lose any memories or hide critical information, and rather than wasting time writing every damn thing down, we can just do this. Our AI’s will be fully sentient and can respond to any questions asked.”_

_“Oh, _you_ decided,” Lance glowers. “I’m guessing the rest of us have no say in this. You want to copy our brains, so we’re just supposed to let you make digital clones of us.”_

_“I mean, I’m down,” Pidge says quietly. “As long as we have potential rampancy safeguards in place.”_

_“Do you have a problem with it, Lance?” Keith snaps. “And we do,” he adds for Pidge._

_Allura cuts in. “Lance, it was my idea. I started doing it sometime before your first mission to Heptavitrine. Keith agrees that it is the best course of action, and yes, you are obligated to follow the leadership of your Black Paladins.”_

_Keith watches Lance closely - the man has no reaction, just continues staring at Allura with the same closed, frowning expression._

_Coran claps his hands together. “Can we get started?”_

_“How does it work?” Hunk asks._

_“I have a pod set up for each of you. Just a couple hours in there, and you have to be willing to let the Castle access your mind, or it’ll take a lot longer. If it takes too long, we’ll have to take you out early, and that could result in a defective AI, which means we’ll have to try again.” Coran fingers his mustache a little._

_“Let’s go, then,” Lance says. “We don’t want to waste too much of the Black Paladin’s precious time.”_

_Coran flashes them a quick smile before heading toward where they know the door is. “Good luck,” Allura calls as the sim dissolves. Keith follows at the rear of everyone, Lance directly behind Coran, putting as much distance between them as possible._

_He… he needs to apologize…_

_Probably…_

_Pidge is eager to get in the pod first - Keith figures they’ll be having rapports with their AI back and forth once it gets uploaded. They mentioned that to him once, before Keith receded from the rest of his team._

_He knows Lance wants his mind uploaded too - he did, when they were teenagers, at least. Why is he acting suddenly against it, now? Is it just to go against Keith, like they used to back then?_

_Lance steps forward after Hunk, but Matt exchanges a quick glance with Keith before cutting in front. “I’ll go next,” Matt says to Coran, Lance frowning._

_Coran leads Matt to the pod, tapping on the hologram in front of him wordlessly, as Matt meets Keith’s eyes again, tilting his head forward in a meaningful look._

_Keith’s not sure if he should thank him or kill him._

_“Lance,” he says quietly as the pod seals up around Matt and Coran turns to them expectantly. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t… I’m stressed out and we’re so close. I didn’t mean what I said.”_

_Lance stares at him for a long moment. “I’m only accepting that,” he says slowly, “because I know how fucking terrible you are at expressing anything.” Then he turns to his pod._

_Keith blows out a long sigh. Lance didn’t exactly apologize back, but… he did say he accepted Keith’s. Are they good, now?_

_“Your turn, Keith,” Coran says, ever cheery._

_Keith takes his pod silently._

__

* * *

_Pidge, Hunk, and Matt are all gone when Keith gets out of his pod. He falls forward, catching himself without the ground’s help this time, blinking. His mind feels ransacked, which is a description he never imagined himself using before - but it fits. Every memory feels like it’s been freshly unearthed and put back. He looks up at the empty pods to his side - there’s a capsule of glowing light attached to each, so he figures it must have gone well. He turns to face his own, watching it for a second - pulsing yellow, red, pink, white, blue…_

_Lance is still in his pod. Next to Keith’s. He steps past his own and stares up at Lance’s troubled face, glancing down to the capsule of memories - Lance’s are flickering, threads of light slowly, slowly, slowly weaving together. He frowns. Checks the clocks on his armor - five vargas, he's missed a shit ton of stuff, but now that he's here he doesn't want to leave. His eyes trail the planes of Lance's face, the angular slope of his jaw, his narrow point of a nose. The curves of his eyebrows are drawn inward, his fluid mouth turned down at the corners._

_Keith takes a seat in front of the pod._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone PLEASE leave kudos and comments this is like my least popular fic and it's the fic i spent the most time on and it's already depressing enough like wow PLS


	6. Chapter 6

### someone who, above all else, you kind of fall in love with - v

18 vargas. That's the total time Lance spends in the pod - Hunk and Matt and Pidge and Coran all stop by at different moments, bringing food, moving the memories to the AI chamber, coming to watch Lance with Keith. Keith's alone when Lance's pod opens, ready to catch Lance, but the man holds his balance without needing Keith's help.

It also turns out he's forgotten their fight from earlier.

"You good?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Lance strains, stretching.

"Are... are we cool, after yesterday?"

"Yesterday?" Lance yawns. "What are you talking about?"

"When we fought," Keith says hesitantly.

Lance shrugs. "Don't remember it.”

It takes Keith a minute.

"Okay," he says. Just go with it. "Let's get your memories to the AI chamber. Then I gotta check and see to make sure they all work." He pings Coran.

Coran arrives within the next twenty minutes. Keith helps him unhook the container and take it to the chamber, but he can't help wondering - what took Lance so long? What is he hiding? Or is it the dementia? Maybe he's hiding the dementia?

Maybe... maybe this can fix his dementia?

It's a wild reach.

"Done," Coran announces, interrupting Keith's reverie. "Ready to test them out?"

"Yeah," Keith says, glancing at Lance.

Lance grins. "Our AI's could all have a party in here."

Keith's eyes widen. "No, don't-" the walls disappear, whiten, confetti suddenly filling the air, the lights dimming and then flashing with color as music swells up around them. Keith groans.

Lance comes up on his left, grinning. "Dance, Keith!" he calls out. He grabs for Keith's hand, but Keith feels nothing -

"Why did you have to say that?" Keith moans, turning to the real Lance, who looks amused. Keith pushes past him to the door, opening it briefly to get rid of the simulation because he still doesn’t have the hang of mentally shutting it down - the music cuts off and the lights brighten again to the regular castle cyan.

"Aww, that was so fun for, like, two point five seconds," Lance teases.

Keith rolls his eyes. "Pidge," he calls out, and they materialize in front of them. "What's your favorite color?"

"Used to be orange, but green, now, I guess," Pidge mutters.

"What are our odds of winning if Bindle fucks up his Katrell?"

"He'll have to fly a Triumph, or something," Pidge says. "Which is drastically different from a Katrell and not nearly as high performance. He will struggle and it'll skew the mission if he can't control the King sector."

"How many marshmallows can I fit in my mouth in the chubby bunny contest?" Lance asks, and Pidge makes a face.

"You got thirty three and almost four, I don't even know how, you're like a fucking squirrel. Hunk died at twenty seven." Keith pauses, processing that image. “I couldn’t make it past eight.”

"Lance, shut up," Keith mutters. "Show me a memory, Pidge."

The scene around them shifts so they're standing outside, the Garrison launch pad in the distance. Pidge, long-haired and in a dress, leans into a much younger Matt as their mom snaps a picture.

They pull back. "Tell me all about it when you get back," they demand. "I want to feel like I was _there._ " Then they mutter, "as I should be."

"You're too young," Matt laughs. "You'll get up there one day. And I promise you'll have adventures I couldn't even dream of right now."

"Ooh," Lance says, wincing. "He should not have said that."

Keith sighs a little through his nose. "Thanks, Pidge." The scene dissolves.

Coran lets out a thoughtful hum. "Describe the last thing you remember in detail."

Pidge looks like they're thinking. "You were all there. I got in that pod so I could get my memories copied and placed here, which evidently worked, and here I am. Real me is probably back with Zialis, we had some good encryption improvements to the Quasar comms in progress."

"Thanks, Pidge," Keith mutters. "Hunk?"

Hunk appears, taking Pidge's place.

"Hunk, what's your favorite color?" Keith asks.

"Oh, I'm not sure," Hunk mumbles. "I actually think white is pretty nice."

"Hunk's colorblind," Lance says, raising an eyebrow.

Keith turns his head to look at Lance, who has his arms crossed and is leaning back casually. "Really?"

"Yeah," Lance scoffs. "Did you not know?"

"He's an engineer," Keith says as way of explanation.

"Which has to do with color blindness... how?" Hunk mutters.

Keith frowns. "Okay. News to me. Tell me about Bindle's idea with his Katrell."

"No, that's boring," Lance cuts in before Hunk has a chance to speak. "Show us that time you and me went skydiving."

"Oh, man," Hunk mumbles. The room shifts and spirals into an entirely different scene - a runway outside the Galaxy Garrison, a spattering of stars arcing high over their heads. Keith's breath catches a little at the sight of the Big Dipper.

Everything is in shades of bronze and blue. Lance, the colors of his skin off just a little, emerges from behind a corner of the building. "Come on," he grins, walking forward confidently. Hunk pops out behind him, face screwed up in tension.

They make their way over to a plane, where some girl is waiting for them, grinning. Lance climbs in and immediately heads to the emergency parachutes, donning one as the door closes behind Hunk.

"Ready?" The girl grins. Lance comes over and leans across the pilot's seat, smiling at the girl.

"Hell yeah," he says, winking at her. She smirks and starts the engines.

"Isn't someone going to hear us?" Hunk frets, fumbling with his parachute.

"Relax, I do this all the time," the girl says smoothly. "Usually I charge, but," she looks up at Lance and grins. "Special discount for you."

" _This_ is how all students with plane access should be," Lance laughs as they lift off the ground. "Not always walking around strutting their emo mullet hair."

"Why do you always bring him into everything?" the girl sighs.

"Aw, babe." Lance leans down close to her cheek, but she shrugs away from him. "Don't worry, all my attention is on you tonight."

"And me, so that we don't, like, die," Hunk mumbles.

"Relax, Hunk! We're not going to die."

Keith raises his eyebrows and turns around to face Lance, who immediately puts his hands up in defense. "You went skydiving in the middle of the night at the Garrison."

"It was fun," Lance protests. “Hunk had fun. Didn't you, Hunk?"

"Oh god, no." Hunk's hologram appears as the plane keeps climbing altitude, the memory muted to allow for conversation. "I skipped class the next day because I kept feeling like my stomach was falling out of my body."

"See?" Lance smiles. "Fun." Keith sighs.

"I've already checked Matt," Coran says. "So let's get to you, Lance?"

"Wait, wait, what about Keith?" Lance protests. "Don't we get to ask his memories?"

"I checked him too, but you can if you would like to," Coran shrugs.

"Keith!" Lance calls out, and Keith's own image appears, dressed in an elbow-length sleeved maroon shirt and black pants. Keith raises an eyebrow at it - it returns the gesture.

"I wanna see a memory of yours," Lance drawls in a teasing tone.

"No," Keith's AI scowls.

"It's a command," Coran is saying.

"Coran-"

Coran speaks through Keith's warning. "You have to say the words, show me a memory, Keith, or it's like requesting any normal person."

Keith's guard flies up as the room swirls into the image of the desert back on Earth - it's dawn. The shack he used to live in assembles itself around them, and when they turn around, Keith's duplicate is sitting there, on the couch, face smushed into his hand, knife twirling on its tip into the table, creating tiny circles. A tear rolls down his cheek and splashes on the splintering wooden surface-

"Enough," Keith growls, and the sim shuts off abruptly. "My AI is good."

Lance blinks. "Was that, like... when you got kicked out of the Garrison?"

"Lance, show me a memory," Keith says instead.

“No!” Lance shrieks. “Nope. Enough, my AI is good, Coran can check it later.”

“Show me a memory, Lance,” Keith growls.

The room dissolves into a beach, waves gently rolling up to brush against their toes with warm water before receding back into each other. Keith stares at the water for a couple seconds.

“You miss your home,” he observes softly.

“Wow,” Lance scowls. “Obviously? Way to go, genius.”

Keith looks up at him, expression softening. He doesn’t know how to deal with this, but…

“Can we change the topic?” Lance says, sounding impatient, but his face just looks sad.

“Lance?" Coran asks. "We're having a little trouble with the Neiyic system negotiations. Nyma stole their ion cannon, as well as a couple supply ships filled with arms and artillery that would have a heavy impact on the outcome of the race. The Galra destroyed several trade bases that ran many of the system's supply routes during the scuffle, and as an extremely militaristic freedom-fighting affiliation of planets, they see us as more of a threat to their own performance than as a potential ally. We haven't been able to solve the negotiation problem for the last several movements, not to mention the fact that we've already given up the stolen artillery in efforts to appease them. It's throwing Juerr and Keith for a loop, and we need them to ally with us to stand a better chance in our assault."

Lance's AI materializes in front of them, kicking at the sand. "That's pretty serious. You've been dealing with this all month?" He looks at Keith.

"You have no idea," Keith mutters. If only the Neiyic system negotiating could be the only problem.

"Why didn't you tell anyone before?"

Keith doesn't answer. What the hell is he supposed to answer? What the fuck? As if he had time, as if he ever had a chance to tell Lance, as if he thought it was important and that Lance could make a difference.

"Okay, well, they need to feel like they're gaining more than they've already lost," Lance's AI mutters. "Send Voltron. Clear the Galra out. Prove to them that we're prepared to win this fight, bring them gifts... I mean, I love gifts, so... but make it inadequate, make it take longer, so that they feel obligated to help. Get them to help you clear their own system, prove you can work better when you join forces, and then draw them over to our battle."

"We talked about that already," Keith scowls. "Koidra won't allow it. Nothing is working, and sending in a war machine at a tense time like this isn't going to help things."

"No, no, no, no," Lance's AI says, shaking his head emphatically. "Do it without him. We can do it. Just the five of us, and Coran with the Castle. We have to show leadership. _We're_ in charge. Maybe - maybe the Commander's the one they don't want to work with."

Keith _wants_ to do that. But Koidra's reasoning actually makes sense, too…

"Keith, we have to show them that we're willing to match their militaristic atmosphere, but that we still definitely need their help. We have the mindset, but not the firepower, or at least that's how we'll present ourselves," the AI stresses.

Keith levels a critical eye at the real Lance, who gestures at his hologram. "He's literally me. We're thinking the same thing."

"Then let's go now," he mutters, deciding. "Right now."

"It'll work, trust me," the AI drawls. Keith casts it a skeptical glance.

"We have three quintents left-"

"Precisely the reason to go now," Keith interrupts Coran. "Can you ping the others? I'm gonna go hangout with the Black Lion for a bit."

"No, Keith," Lance mumbles as Keith turns to face the water, wading into the ocean in the direction of the AI chamber's door. "I hate it when you do that."

Keith raises an eyebrow - no other response. He's removing himself from the situation. This Neiyic system thing... he needs to think about it.

Overall, it's a good plan. Use the emotional connection rather than any kind of formal negotiation that would leave neither side fully happy. Voltron is probably the best way to do what Lance suggests - fight hard and strong and continuous but _slowly._ Keith has confidence that they can wipe out the Galra from the Neiyic bases without breaking a sweat, but this is more about putting on a show - displaying why they _need_ the help of the Neiyic system.

His hand finds the door surface, and the images around him pixelate and fall away. Keith lets out a thoughtful breath. It's not Voltron that needs the help, it's the rest of Quasar. So when the Neiyic system helps, they'll need to help support Voltron in other areas of the defense and coordinate at the same time, with Voltron showing strong independence.

Meaning Voltron needs to hit hard, hit fast, and find itself surrounded, prompting the Neiyic military to attack the outside. The door opens and he keeps walking, away to the Black Lion.

He checks his messages in his armor - the Commander and the point pilots have been trying to radio him for hours. His mouth twists sourly as another incoming call from Koidra lights up the corner of the screen that floats above his arm, deciding to answer.

"Kogane, you've been negligent."

Keith glares at the empty hallway in front of him. Lance is still back in the AI - he isn't following after him like Keith sort of maybe thought he might. "I was tending to something more important."

"Nothing is more important than the assault. After you pushed to rush the alliance, I'd think you'd behave more responsibly."

Keith hates this. _Hates_ it when people lecture him about responsibility, when people treat him like a child. "Condescension will get you nowhere, Koidra," he mutters. "I'm doing what's best for the attack. You need the Neiyic system's support. Any progress on that?"

"You're the one who's been absent for the last two discussions we had about it. Maybe if you were staying on top of things like the rest of us, we might have a more favorable situation."

"Fuck off," he scowls, ending the call.

### takeout is better when you're broke and there are leftovers in the fridge - vi

Black is his thinking place. It's where he can sit for hours, dwelling in some realm above thought - sometimes he travels, sometimes the Lion takes him to different planets she's visited. Sometimes she lets him into the headspace, where he feels like he's no longer part of the universe, where it's just an expanse of stars and pitch. Sometimes he sees Shiro in there, and to this day he's not sure if he's hallucinating or if the Black Lion has some sort of connection to a place a little out of touch with reality.

It's meditation. That's what it is - spirituality. He was a science child, _always_. Bound by fact and explanation. He never had faith in a higher power because there was no way he could stay sane if he believed all the shit in his life was caused by someone else's _will._ So meditation - it was a load of bullshit. The closest he ever got to it before was when he was searching for the Blue Lion and would spend all day and all night just _listening,_ feeling, waiting for those drawings to make sense.

And then life got harder.

And then Shiro died.

And then Allura died.

And now he's left - and sometimes he needs to get away so he sits in Black and lets his mind leave his body.

And it's how he finds himself opening his eyes in the stars, feeling no surface beneath his feet but knowing he can walk on it.

And Shiro - Shiro's back.

"Hey, soldier," he says, and Keith's frown of concentration softens to something happier.

"Shiro," he blows out in relief, walking forward - movement is fast in this place, and in two seconds flat his face is buried in Shiro's shoulder, the man's arms coming up around him and holding him close. Keith breathes in, holding the breath in his lungs for one, two, before releasing.

Shiro's the one who steps back. "You're almost ready for the big battle," he says, a kind of grim cheer in his voice. "Didn't I always tell you you were meant to inherit the whole universe?"

Keith snorts. "You said that because I was eight years old and upset."

"You had nothing then."

"I have nothing now."

Shiro smiles. "You have everything, now, Keith, and you deserve it. The world is yours for the taking, and the fact that you're still choosing to fight until the end is the core of your strength."

Keith returns the expression, lips quirking up just a little at the corners. He moves to sit down and finds a bench under him; Shiro joins him on the other end. "I want to finish this," Keith says.

"I know you do."

"I want to end the empire forever - I never want to see another heir to the throne, I don't want to deal with a power struggle for who gets the universe. I want to finish this reign."

"You will," Shiro promises. "You're... great, Keith." Keith frowns - the only thing that pops into his mind at the words is one general history lecture they had about Alexander the Great when he was fourteen. "And you've done great things and only greatness awaits you. I know you're tired of being told you're special, but you're special for a reason, and that reason is that you have the capability to do good to this universe."

Keith looks at him for a minute before turning and leaning his head on Shiro's shoulder. It's his human arm. "I miss you," he says, and his voice falls out in pieces from his lips.

"I know."

"Come back."

"You know I can't."

"Are you even real?"

Shiro doesn't answer for a moment. "As real as the beat of your heart and the persistence of your soul, Keith."

And Keith loses himself in the feeling of bitter warmth, drops out of all thought, lets himself just drift into the stars and the purple and the black of this place inside Black’s consciousness. Fades into delirium.

### the third stair creaks and you need to cover the wrappers with other trash - ii

Black drags him out of his sleep when the Castle reaches the Neiyic system. He blinks several times, remembering where he is, sitting there for a moment.

 

He rises from the seat slowly.

Takes his time on his way to the pilot's seats in the Castle.

"Thank you, Coran," he calls, announcing his presence when he finally gets there. He glances around once - they're all here. "Let's form Voltron."

"The Neiyic system hailed us," Matt says.

"What did they say?" Keith mutters.

"They say they're prepared to fight us," Hunk says, frowning.

"Coran, link me up," Keith orders, and the man does just that. "Keep those weapons ready," he says into the frequency. "We're clearing out the Galra, and we may need your help."

Keith turns and leaves as the response crackles in, not bothering to sit and chat with the war-minded species.

### takeout is better when you're broke and there are leftovers in the fridge - vii

They form Voltron. Keith fazes out of his sense of individuality - they're five, they're one... it takes several hours to clear each planet.

The Neiyic system joins them after the third trade planet, and the remaining four breeze by.

When they do finally dissemble, Keith's exhausted - it's been maybe an entire quintent, and their attack is close. He wants to just call it quits and leave, get some actual half-hearted sleep in before they mount their attack. This way at least the Galra are focused on watching the Neiyic system for more developments concerning Voltron, so they won't expect the impending attack on the heart of their operations.

Keith's exhausted.

Barely processes what's happening when Pidge drags him over to a console in the Castle and Coran hits the speakers - it's the Commander they've been negotiating with for the past several weeks.

"This message is for Voltron, then. We will accept them as allies in battle two quintents from now. We are willing to supply their alliance, and after we win, we hope to continue our newfound friendly arrangement."

Keith nods, yawns, and heads back up to the hangar of the Black Lion. Mission accomplished, at least. He'll have to make sure to thank Lance later.

### sunlight filters through ash to illuminate bloodied petals - iv

He forgets. He completely forgets to even acknowledge the fact that Lance's plan is what gave the alliance a fighting chance. He's grateful and the weight off his shoulders is a bliss in and of itself, and he completely forgets to thank Lance.

And as he sits with Juerr and Koidra and the Neiyic Commander a few vargas later, he doesn't even realize.

### jenny was a friend of mine - v

Lance forgets too.

Because Lance has dementia.

He stares at Keith blankly when Keith mentions the Neiyic system offhand in conversation hours before they're about to head back to the Castle of Lions for a last systems-check. The planet is pitch black outside - it's early morning. No one has slept. Everyone’s been working.

It hits Keith like a train every time he's reminded upfront about all that Lance is going through.

"They're supplying a lot of our weaponry," Keith reminds Lance gently.

Lance just nods - Keith can tell it doesn't ring a bell.

Because Lance has dementia.

And he forgets.

### someone who, above all else, you kind of fall in love with - vi

"Lance, would you calm down? You're making me even more nervous than I already am," Hunk complains.

Lance props his elbow on his bouncing knee and lets his cheek fall into his palm. "I know, I'm sorry, just excited."

"Excited," Pidge repeats doubtfully.

"I don't know. Nervous. Anxious. Scared. I can't stop thinking." Lance drops his arm again and tips his head back, drumming his fingers on the seat. "I mean, I know they're like the exact same as Blueshift, and that the two sides totally interact all the time, especially near the warfronts, but we've never met anyone from Redshift, and I just- I remember the Commander talking about how it's a giant planet, with a city, or something, and I'm not sure I'm ready for that yet."

"What do you mean?" Hunk asks softly as Keith frowns and flicks his eyes to the red chair.

"I don't know. I just..." Lance sighs, slumping down low into his seat. "I don't know! I don't know what I'm expecting."

"We'll be there soon," Koidra announces, studying the display from over Coran's shoulder.

Lance jumps to his feet and walks out of the room - very calmly, actually, but it's obvious he's in a hurry to get away.

Pidge stares after him before making eye contact with Keith, who grimaces, slouching, tilting his head to the side and back before getting up. He can't _not_ follow.

"Keith-"

"I'll be right back."

Keith strides out behind Lance, who glances back at him once but doesn't slow down. Keith doesn't say a word, just follows him until he stops in the observation deck and sits down on a stair, staring at the new constellations that now surround them.

"Lance."

"Fancy seeing you here."

"Are you okay?"

Lance stares out the window. Then he pulls something small and shiny out of his pocket and beckons Keith over. "Come here, listen to this," he mumbles, finding something on the side and winding it. Keith walks over and lowers himself to the flat ground opposite Lance, looking up into his face.

Soft, tinkling music starts to waft out of the box. Keith doesn't recognize the melody, but it's beautiful - slow and sweet.

"Pidge did it for me," Lance mutters, setting the small music box down in between them. "My mom and my siblings used to sing it to me, and then I used to sing it for my younger cousins. It helps me remember her. And them. And I guess it, it calms me down."

_It helps me remember her._

Keith watches the small silver box. The frame is metal but the rest is glass, and it lets Keith view the inner workings of the music box - the gears, the turning sheet, the ridges that ping off the notes. There are words in Spanish etched into every metal surface. A couple Keith recognizes, like _niño_ \- child, _sol_ \- sun, _corazón_ \- heart. "How do the words go?"

Lance stares at the box as it continues to play, the handle slowly rotating counterclockwise.

"If I start now, we'll have missed the beginning."

"That's okay," Keith says quietly. "I want to hear it. If you want."

Lance swallows, and then starts humming to the tune, quiet and barely within Keith's earshot. And then he sings...

_"Háganle la cama  
en el toronjil,  
y en la cabecera  
pónganle un jazmín  
que con su fragancia  
me lo haga dormir._

_Arrorró mi niño,  
arrorró mi sol,  
arrorró pedazo,  
de mi corazón._

_Esta leche linda  
que le traigo aquí,  
es para este niño  
que se va a dormir._

_Arrorró mi niño,  
arrorró mi sol,  
arrorró pedazo,  
de mi corazón._

_Este lindo niño  
se quiere dormir...  
cierra los ojitos  
y los vuelve a abrir._

_Arrorró mi niño,  
arrorró mi sol,  
duérmase pedazo,  
de mi corazón."_

Lance has his eyes closed as the song starts over from the beginning. Keith leans forward slightly, disappointed that he's stopped, because Lance's singing voice is quite possibly the most angelic voice he's ever heard. He lowers his eyes, reaching up with one hand to brush his knuckles over his burning cheeks.

"You're blushing," Lance says, the huff of a laugh turning his words just this side of breathy.

"Not really."

"Yeah, you are." Lance tilts his head. "You blush a lot around me, Keith..." his voice turns teasing, drawing out the vowels longer than they need to be.

Keith refrains from pouting and presses his palms down on his knees as if he's getting ready to stand. "Okay, I guess you're fine, then."

"Hey," Lance laughs. "Wait, no, don't go."

"Just wanted to check on you. I gotta go back." Keith shrugs, leaning forward into a kneel.

"No, you don't," Lance insists. He reaches up and catches Keith's wrist in his hand. "I'm not fine yet. I'm still really nervous and anxious about going to Redshift. Keep checking on me."

Keith meets his eyes, concerned again, until he sees the tiny smirk tugging at Lance's lips. He rolls his eyes. "Why am I ever worried for you."

Lance smiles, pulling Keith closer. He's a few inches shorter with Keith kneeling in front of where he sits on the stair, which is an interesting angle to view him from. "I don't know... seems there must be some reason beyond what's already been spoken. You do blush around me pretty often."

 _Because you're good-looking,_ Keith bites mentally. "It's always either embarrassment or physical exertion," he deadpans instead.

"Oh yeah?" Lance suddenly leans forward, rolling to his knees on the flat floor and rising off the stair into a kneel, pushing Keith back so his back is arched as he maintains eye contact with Lance like a fool. "Which one is it right now?" Lance asks, and if Keith wasn't leaning back and down to avoid Lance, if he was sitting up a little straighter, their lips would be pressed together trying to occupy the same space at the same time. His breath hitches in his throat.

"This was a bad idea," he says roughly, squirming out from under Lance. Not yet. Not yet. He made a decision - he's not doing this until _after_ they win.

He gets to his feet and moves toward the door. "Keith," Lance says softly, all teasing gone from his tone, and Keith throws him a glance over his shoulder, slowing.

Lance rises as well and comes up to him as he turns all the way around. "I don't know when I'll get a chance again to say this, now that we're about to, you know. Final battle. We're getting close to the end, here. Lotor gave us a run for our money, and this could be the end of the line, so." He stops in front of Keith. "So I'm going to say this now." Keith's pulse picks up. Lance reaches around him and pulls him close, dropping his head to Keith's shoulder as Keith hesitantly returns the sudden embrace. "You mean a lot to me, so be careful."

It hits Keith's heart hard. "You too, Lance," he mumbles into the red armor against his cheek. He wants to say something more, but... nothing comes out of his mouth.

They stand there for a few more seconds, tightly secure in each other's arms. Keith doesn't want to let go, because for some reason it feels like a turning point, like when he pulls back, things will be different; like when he pulls back, he's going to be a changed man; like when Lance lets go, he might not hold Keith again for a long time. Like they'll be beyond that. Like they'll be too old, too battle-weary to do much else other than exchange knowing looks in the day, and wake in cold sweats in the night - plagued with the faces of enemies who were freed from war long ago and the looming presence of enemies that remain faceless. And the ones they've slain in combat would wind up as the lucky ones.

It feels like their last embrace before the end of things. Like the last fleeting moment of childhood.

And Lance breaks it - stepping back, offering a tired smile that carries with it not a single hint of happiness. Keith wants to say that he feels like crying, but he doesn't - he nods instead. Lance raises two fingers in a salute. Keith turns, headed back to the control room, ready to face the Facilitator at Redshift.

### you're all that and i'm - iii

"Resfeber," Pidge announces. "The racing heartbeat before a journey, anxiety and anticipation at the same time. That's what this is."

Lance blows out a breath. "Yeah, that's probably it," he mumbles.

The planet is a shell, the interior of which has been hollowed out into one giant city. They dock just under the surface and step out onto a path with simulated gravity - Keith glances down, eyes skimming over the layers and layers of shelves that people are bustling around on. "Interesting infrastructure," he comments, and the official who welcomes them gives him a nervous smile.

"It makes for easy transportation," she explains. "Rather than fly around the surface, we can cut through the middle. It'll only take a few hours for you to reach the core, where the Facilitator is."

She turns, her glittering green hair swishing where it's pulled up. Tattoos adorn what Keith can see of her neck; it disappears into her dark maroon uniform. She's the first alien Keith's met with eyes on the back - and sides - of her head, and he can't look away from the pair that bores into him.

She leads him to a smaller, compact vehicle. It's strangely spacious on the inside, fitting all twenty-three of them without a problem.

"What's your name?" Keith asks.

"I'm Trin Lavorille," she says softly. "Second in command with Redshift, sort of a vice president. Normally we'd just send a messenger, but you're special guests, so I'm here personally. And I know who you are, of course.” She smiles warmly at them over her shoulder before ducking out of view. It’s only moments later that the small ship lifts off the ground.

The chatter rises around Keith, but he’s quiet, leaning against the wall and scrutinizing the pilots around him. He’s had time to assess each of their skills in the last few years they’ve spent with Blueshift, and they’re good - exceptionally so; they make him feel inadequate in his own skin. Flying is as natural to him as breathing, and he can’t imagine living without it, but these people are still somehow more into it than he is.

What he supposes throws him off is that they’re happy. They’re smiling, talking about what they expect to hear from the Facilitator. He can’t relate to that. He fails to comprehend how they can stare death in the face, look to the side, meet eyes with a fellow pilot, and still find the strength to smile.

He shuts his eyes. Whatever. Mission.

Thoughts drift for a few hours.

“We’re here,” he hears, and when he opens his eyes, the roof is splitting into four pieces - he remembers the underwater prison and panics for a second, before realizing that, rather than water, bright white light is spilling through. He squints for a moment before his eyes adjust and he makes out another woman standing in front of the ship, now fully bloomed open like a flower, and she’s flanked by two maroon-uniformed, stone-faced soldiers.

“Commander Koidra,” she greets, and Koidra steps forward, dipping his head briefly in a formal bow.

“Commander Loreal.” His silver-green hair is pulled back, blue crescents accentuated in silver lining. He’s wearing, like… makeup, or something.

“Like the beauty product brand?” Keith flinches at the sudden whisper in his ear, glancing over to see Lance leaning in, invading his personal space.

He squishes himself even closer to the wall. “Probably not,” he says flatly.

“God, look at her, though…” Lance breathes, and Keith huffs. She’s not terrible. She’s dressed in a crisp maroon uniform, accentuated with the same dusty orange as Blueshift - the same style that the Blueshift officials wear when they’re not trying to pass as common space travellers, too. Keith can assume that the clothing Redshift wears when not conducting diplomatic business probably looks similar to the clothes Matt and Koidra were wearing when they first met them as well, with maroon to replace the cobalt blue.

She has brown skin that edges on bronze, shimmering gold dots lining her face, neck, and fingers. The markings remind him of the Heptavitrines. Her hair is a mass of luscious silver-blonde curls, tumbling over her shoulders, pulled up on top of her head with pins. Probably gets in the way of fighting and wearing helmets - Keith would know. Her eyes are bigger than Keith’s own, irises reflecting the light unnaturally in tints of amber and yellow. She’s got four fingers and claws, a flat nose. A leg looks like it’s made of metal - golden, like so much of the rest of her.

Her hair is interspersed with braids that all end with the same kind of ornamentation that finishes off Koidra’s, and Keith has to wonder if it’s supposed to mean something.

She nods at the rest of them. “Welcome to Redshift headquarters. We live here, all around.” The Commander raises her arms and gestures at the shelves that make up the interior of the planet, and here, at the center, Keith can tell is where the money consolidates - actual castles and villas with gold roofs that reflect the brilliant white light she’s standing in front of. “We’re standing just outside where the Facilitator resides. Civilians live around us, and further out is where the military starts. Feel free to look around nearby as you wait.” Then she addresses Koidra specifically. “Ready? You’re first.”

He nods. She turns, and he follows her as they both disappear into the light.

Keith blows out a breath. “Pretty brief welcome message.”

“Most of us have been here before,” Juerr says, coming over to stand next to him. Chlom follows her, never far behind. They’re close friends or something. Keith doesn’t care enough. “We’ve all met her, we’ve all toured the streets, learned combat here, lived here for a while.”

“Can we go see the city?” Lance asks.

Keith’s about to say no, when- “Sure, I can take you. The five of you are up after the Commander, though, and then I’m a little bit after, so you’ll have to wait for me to come back.” Juerr spares Lance a brief smile - just a quirk of the lips, the corner. He grins back at her.

“Sure.”

“I’ll come,” Keith mumbles.

“Really?”

Keith looks over at Lance questioningly.

“It’s just… recently you’ve been… never mind.” Keith raises his eyebrow. “Sure, man,” Lance shrugs. “No problem.”

“I wasn’t really asking if you had one,” Keith says, and Lance frowns.

“Well, even if you were, I don’t,” he says.

“Okay, well-”

“Keith?” Keith glances up - the Commanders have returned, and Commander Loreal is looking in his direction.

“So soon?” Keith mumbles.

“Good luck,” Juerr says as he lifts himself off the wall and follows after Commander Loreal.

“So this is your first time with Redshift,” she says as they move away from earshot of the other pilots and into the blinding white light. It feels like the very air is glowing - Keith can’t find a single shadow, anywhere on her face. The gold dots along her skin reflect white.

“Yeah,” he confirms.

“What do you think, based on what you’ve seen so far? You’ve likely met some of my soldiers, the two sides of Quasar interact a lot.”

“I have, but I don’t usually pay attention,” he admits. “Your planet reminds me of a bookshelf. Just terraces and terraces, life on either side. What does the simulated gravity do to time?”

“Time is complicated,” Juerr says. “It’s not a good topic to get into right now. Do you yourself know how long you’ve spent in space, or how long you’ve spent with Blueshift?”

Keith wants to answer, but he really doesn’t know. It feels like years sometimes, sometimes like weeks. He can never tell anymore. He just sleeps when he’s tired, fights when he needs to.

“It’s too relative to hold much meaning in space, I’m sure you know,” the Commander says lightly. “The people who are more hung up on it are usually only concerned with it because they have something holding them back. Is that the case with you?”

It’s not… really. Not with _him_ , at least. “I don’t think so.”

The Commander hums. “You’ll hopefully know the answer to most of your questions soon, if she is willing.”

“She?”

“The Facilitator.”

“It’s a girl?”

“I don’t think Facilitators have gender. But ‘she’ feels natural to me. What feels natural to you?”

“I don’t know… ‘she’, I guess.”

Commander Loreal laughs. “I like you, Black Paladin. I hope she’s cooperative with you. Commander Koidra seemed satisfied enough with whatever she said to him, so maybe she’s in a helpful mood.” She places one hand briefly on his back, pointing forward with her other. Her claws are narrow and black but dull, and Keith considers the possibility that they’re only about as harmful as human fingernails when he notices the small gold sparks that seem to be painted on them. Still a little strange, but it makes him trust her more, for... some reason. “Just walk straight forward. Don’t stop. I’ll meet you on the other side.”

He takes in a deep breath and makes himself keep moving forward, and when he glances back, the light around him is too bright to even see the Commander anymore. He keeps going, thinking, feeling nothing… his mind blanking…

### i finished my paper at four this morning - iv

Commander Loreal calls Lance forward - Lance gives Keith a questioning look, but he has no answer, so he avoids acknowledging him at all. He strolls back over to Juerr, who immediately turns away from Chlom to face him with barely contained interest.

“How was it? Tell me what happened,” she says eagerly.

“I really don’t know,” he says honestly. “All I remember is white light.”

“Okay, okay, that’s normal, but, uh… let’s try this. How confident are you in our plan for today?”

Keith considers the question genuinely. “I wouldn’t say confidence factors in,” he says. “It’s a good plan. We’ll pull through.”

Juerr grins. “She did. She answered some of your questions. Listen - it’s not like the Facilitators have a conversation with you, or tell you words. You’re supposed to come out of it with knowledge, and I think it feels like she did something for you.”

Keith considers it. Did she? He feels better about the plan. He feels like they’re pretty well prepared, he feels pretty good about his Lance situation that he somehow can’t seem to push off to the side, he feels pretty… good, in general. He nods. “I guess she did.”

“When are you going to tell Lance you love him?” Chlom whispers after a few minutes, the sound still grating against his eardrums. Keith feels like he should have some kind of reaction to that - tell her to quiet down, be embarrassed that she knows, but he doesn’t…

“After we kill Lotor,” he says softly, eyes flicking toward the bright white light to his right.

“You’re not surprised that I know?”

Keith pauses. “I am,” he decides. Is he really, though? He’s not sure how successful he’s been at concealing his feelings.

Lance returns before the conversation carries on.

“I’m a little disappointed that the only thing she helped me with is my love life,” Keith mutters to Juerr.

She grins at him. “Oh, don’t worry. You’re insecure about your fighting and your flying - maybe she fixed that for you, too. You’ll figure it out later today.” She sighs as Lance rejoins them. “I love Facilitators. How did it go, Lance?”

Chlom wrinkles her nose, and Lance frowns. “I have all this stuff in my brain that wasn’t there before,” he mumbles. “It’s bursting with information.”

Juerr grins. “Really?” Keith asks. He doesn’t feel any different - just calmer. He rubs his ring out of habit. “That’s not what happened with me.”

“I told you, different for everyone,” Juerr says. “Your Green Paladin is going now.”

"Pidge already knows everything," Lance says.

Chlom scowls. "The Facilitators don't always give you information. Sometimes they don't tell you anything at all."

Juerr leans in and bumps her nose against Chlom's. "That's because you already know everything, too," she says.

"That could be us," Lance mutters, "but you can't loosen up."

Keith panics. "What?"

"Nothing," Lance laughs. "Don't worry about it.

Keith frowns, but then Koidra catches his attention. The Raedreic is staring at the Commander of Redshift as she leads Pidge toward the Facilitator. There's something going on in his expression that Keith can't discern.

"He loves her," Lance says, catching Keith's line of vision and following it to Koidra. "It's obvious."

"What, you would know," Keith bites out. He's not sure why he says it, or what it means - it doesn't even mean anything at all, not really.

Lance grins at him, though. "Of course. Who wouldn't fall in love with a golden girl like that?"

"She's out of your league," Keith states, oddly comfortable with this conversation that he's carefully avoided all semblances of before. It must be something about their impending battle.

"Who isn't?"

"Mm, true."

"You weren't supposed to agree with me on that."

"Why'd you say it, then? Why put yourself down when you want everyone else to praise you?"

Keith looks over at Lance when he doesn't answer. The man's mouth is open, tongue poised in the air to send back a remark, but Lance says nothing.

It's the rest of team Voltron, and then Nyma, and then Bindle. Then the Commander of Redshift is calling Juerr forward.

And when she comes back, it's Chlom.

And when Chlom comes back, they're walking back toward the ship, heading around, continuing on past the back toward the other end of the path where there are a few smaller ships docked. Two people per ship, Keith guesses. They're small - just pods, really.

"Can you fly one of these?" Juerr asks Keith.

He snorts. "Doesn't look too hard."

Juerr laughs. "This is why I like you." She grabs Chlom's hand and climbs into a pod, turning her attention to the controls, her luminescent eyes brightening. Keith smiles a little. He likes Juerr too. She's very... spirited.

"I want to fly it, I want to fly it, I want to fly it," Lance repeats over and over again as he scampers to a second pod and enters. He flexes his fingers as Keith joins him, the white wall materializing behind them and sealing their air.

Lance pushes a button and a small graph cube pops up - he lets his fingers fan out inside of it, lights dancing over his knuckles as he wiggles them.

"Fancy," Keith notes. Juerr rises off the ground next to them.

"Hell yeah," Lance breathes, as he tilts his wrists up and the pod lifts into the air. "This is... so fun." He drops his knuckles downward and the pod rockets forward in pursuit. Keith grips the wall on one side and Lance's thigh on the other side in an effort to stabilize himself.

Juerr's voice rings out in the air. "Can you hear me? Is this the right pod? Hello?"

"Yeah," Keith says.

"Wow. Only took me, what, the sixth try to set up a link with the right one? Okay, we don't have all the time in the world, so let me show you around." She zooms into the air toward the northern pole of the planet. "The poles are communications points. Top one is mainly military, bottom is mainly civilian."

"Let's see the houses where people live," Lance grins.

"Sure." Juerrs pod veers off toward the right and eases off as it approaches the nearest gold-roofed castle. She swerves around a tower - Lance spins in a loop around the flagpole on top before zooming toward Juerr as she moves away from the planetary center. "I'll take you to meet my family."

"Awesome," Lance says breathily as Keith feels a twinge of resentment. Then he frowns at himself - thought he was over that.

Juerr lands surprisingly suddenly - dropping down off their viewport as they start to reach the end of the richer clusters of houses. Lance follows her down.

They set their pods down in the middle of the street.

There's traffic - hovering vehicles driven by aliens that look mad at first, but take one look at Juerr's and Chlom's uniforms as the girls step out and avert their eyes. Lance follows them, Keith behind, as Juerr leads them calmly toward a large building with a few pods docked at the massive front porch. There's an ornate gate she presses her hand against for a few seconds before it opens. Keith fingers the peeling gold paint as he passes through it, flecks of shimmery yellow coming off on his fingers.

The front door is alien material similar to the pods. Juerr places her hand against the smooth surface, and after a couple seconds it melts to the sides. She grins. The inside is painted a vibrant orange, light emanating from a round half-orb mounted on the wall of the hallway. Juerr continues down the hall unannounced, Chlom close behind her.

"Mom?" she calls out as it widens into a warm living room, windows on the far left letting in streams of golden light. Lance whistles. The room is exquisitely furnished, luscious sofas bathed in gold and orange, tables painted vibrant red and two small children playing with some metal toy with many flying metal marbles. They both look up at the voice.

" _Kinit!_ " they scream, jumping up and rushing Juerr. "We missed you so much, Juerr!" The shorter one gushes into her uniform.

"Hey, Lian," Juerr smiles. "What have you guys been up to, Azhquin?"

Keith tries the names out in his head - Lee-ahn. Ah-zh-quinn. "Lian and I made this cool thing, come look!" The taller one says, grabbing Juerr's arms, his eyes beacons of light as he leads her toward their toy. Keith comes over out of interest - it reminds him, quite honestly, of a marble maze or something, only the small metal marbles are flying in orbit around the thin wire tracks they're meant for.

Lian bends down toward the base. "Ready?" she grins. Juerr nods. The girl hits a switch, and the balls fly up in the air, whirring around with ferocity, colliding with each other, sparks skittering in circles around each other in the air. Keith's eyebrows raise. The marbles start weaving patterns in the air, and then they're moving too fast for his eyes to follow - all he can see is the light that's left behind from the sparks. They morph into lines until he's looking at Juerr's face reamed in fire, the side of it - the 2D Juerr turns to look at them and winks before the balls slow and drop back to the ground.

Juerr pulls in a dramatic gasp. "You did that?" She bends down to their level. "For me?"

Both of them erupt in excited clamoring as Keith hears hurried, uneven footsteps approaching from the other side of the room.

"You're going to be the greatest engineers Redshift has ever seen," Juerr promises them breathily before rising, turning.

Another member of her family is standing at the edge of the room, Lance and Chlom on either side. His eyes flick from Chlom to Juerr, filling with tears. Juerr grins. He surges forward, hair down to his mid back and fluttering as he limps into her arms. Keith meets Lance's gaze across the scene, smiling a little at the touching moment.

The kids who were previously occupied with Juerr take a new interest in him, pulling on his arm, asking questions, so many questions - "have you ever been on a mission with Kinit?" "She's the best pilot out there, isn't she?" "Who are you?" "Why is your hair in front of your face, how can you see?" "Your skin is so pale, and thin, what are you going to do when you're going faster than the speed of light and the glass breaks and hits you, you'll _die..._ " Keith's eyes widen as he stares.

"Um... you can't go faster than the speed of light," he says, fumbling for words. He can see Lance laughing silently out of the corner of his eye.

"You're out of the hospital," Juerr is murmuring into the man's hair.

"You're back from Blueshift," he laughs shakily. "Here to stay?"

"We're actually heading out for battle," Chlom says, her voice resonating deeply as usual. "Stopping by for a meeting with the Facilitator."

The man steps back as one more person slips out of a doorway in the far back of the room. "Big one, then?" he says.

"The biggest," Juerr responds - Keith thinks the last lady is her mom, but whatever she says to Juerr is drowned out by Lian and Azhquin pulling at his arms again and pestering him with nonstop streams of words. He inhales deeply and blows out a controlled sigh as Azhquin wraps his monkey arms around Keith's middle to gain his attention again.

"This one guy named Kio Rurrnikiv once flew faster than light," Azhquin is spouting into Keith's ribs. "He said he did. He wrote a book about it. I read it."

"Prodigy, aren't you?" Keith murmurs.

Lian nods. "Yeah! That's what Madam called me in school when she said I could start engineering next year. I'm going up to space, just like Kinit!"

"They sent me up to a higher class, too," Azhquin pushes, tugging on Keith's other arm for attention over his sister. "I'm a prodigy too."

Keith's mouth twists into a smile despite himself. "Me, too."

"Kinit means older sister," Chlom says helpfully, and Keith is about to look at her to acknowledge the explanation when he meets eyes with Lance instead, who's watching him with the fondest expression, the most tender eyes...

And Lian is going to tear his arm off, he swears. He manages a meager smile before Lian yanks on him so hard he loses his balance and has to kneel to avoid falling over completely.

"Are you a pilot? An engineer? Your hair's messy."

"I'm a pilot," Keith says, running one hand through his long hair. "I know."

"Can I comb it for you?" Azhquin's eyes brighten, making Keith look away.

"Uh... sure?" he says. The boy pumps his fist in the air before scampering off.

"Can I braid it?" Lian asks, just as excited. Keith's hair would definitely stay out of the way more if it was braided, so... no harm, right?

"Go ahead," he mutters, as Azhquin returns and starts pulling a comb through Keith's hair. He winces at the rough strokes.

"Hey, don't bother him, he's the leader of Voltron," Juerr calls out.

"No, no," Lance says, laughing. "He loves it. Keep him busy, Azhquin." Keith looks up at them.

" _You're the leader of Voltron??_ " Azhquin's comb drops from Keith's hair as he suddenly leaps onto Keith from behind, his neck stretching across Keith's shoulder to talk directly in his ear. "Do you get to control the giant robot? How many battles have you won? Have you ever lost one? Is it hard? What if one leg goes one way and the other leg goes the other way?" Keith winces at the loud voice.

"Yeah, that's me," he says, as Lance slumps against a wall, putting a hand up to hide his barely contained smile. "That doesn't happen. And I've won all my battles." Not exactly. Bue he isn’t going to tell these kids about how Allura died.

"Mr. Voltron, can I pleeeeease braid your hair?" Lian pouts and Keith chuckles slightly.

"No," Juerr says firmly.

"Sure," Keith laughs. "It's okay, Juerr."

Juerr studies him for half a second before smiling. "She's definitely changed you," she smiles, as Lance finally comes over and pulls Azhquin into his lap.

Juerr's watch beeps just as Lian finishes twirling the last finishing silver ornament into Keith's hair, Lance and Azhquin engaged in some conversation, jumping from one topic to another.

"Bye!!" Lian says, squeezing the fucking daylights out of Keith, then Lance, then Chlom, before moving on to attach herself like a leech to Juerr.

"Take care of Juerr," Juerr's mom says to Chlom, one hand cupping the mermaid's cheek, as Chlom smiles and nods.

"I'll be back," Juerr promises, kissing who Keith assumes must be her older brother or something on his cheek and lifting Lian up so the little girl can wrap her arms around her neck. "I love you."

"Better be soon," Juerr's older brother says, and she winks at him.

"Of course it will be," she says, grinning as she heads out the door, beckoning to Chlom with her head.

Chlom smiles and waves at the younger two. "I'll keep her safe," she promises. "Don't worry."

They fuse with her legs as she starts to leave - so bursting with joy and energy, Jesus Christ.

Keith lets out a sigh once he finally makes it free of them and steps out into the open air. "How are they so enthusiastic, all the goddamn time?" he mutters, following after Lance to the pod.

Lance laughs, free and happy, something like full, vibrant joy filling his voice. It balloons in Keith's heart. "They're kids," he says. "Kids are like that."

"I wasn't like that," Keith mumbles.

"Mm, you probably were." Lance glances at him and smirks as they enter the pod. "I could always go find out from your AI." Oh, yeah. He climbs in after Lance, the door shutting behind him as the holographic controls form around Lance's outstretched hands. He turns to Keith and grins, gesturing to the controls with his chin. "Figured out autopilot on this thing." He reaches out and curls his fingers around a braid in Keith's hair, letting it slip out of his grip slowly as he pulls his hand back toward himself. "That was so sweet earlier."

Keith raises his eyebrows, fighting down a blush. "What was?"

Lance smiles softly. "You with the kids. Juerr's siblings. God, Keith, it's not fair that you were robbed of family, because anyone would want an older brother like that."

His eyes are on Keith's hair, twirled in his fingers, and he flicks them up to meet Keith's. "I was just... trying to go along with what they were saying. You were laughing at me," Keith shrugs, acutely aware of the distance between him and Lance because it's getting smaller. It's diminishing, millimeter by millimeter, Lance tugging on a braid of his to pull him closer. Keith's eyes drop to Lance's lips, warm breath drifting from them and tingling over his own face. Now? Now?? This is happening now? He tries to still his hammering heart.

"I know..." Lance breathes. "Because it was fucking adorable..." Lance's eyes droop slowly closed as his head starts to tilt. "Didn't know you had that side to you..." Keith closes his eyes, leaning forward, when there's a knock on the door and they spring apart, cheeks flaring. The side melts open and Juerr is standing there, smiling slightly. "Everyone's done. We're starting our mission."

Keith takes three full breaths in and out before answering. "Let's go kill Lotor." He glances back once at Lance.

Then he stands and follows Juerr out into the blinding light outside.

### someone who, above all else, you kind of fall in love with - vii

They were about to kiss. They were definitely about to kiss. Keith keeps going over and over it in his head - oh, man, they were definitely about to kiss. He reaches up and trails a finger down his braid again as the plane carries them back to the Castle of Lions.

He was just two seconds away from kissing Lance.

He closes his eyes and replays the music box melody in his head, listening to his memory of Lance's voice singing gently along in Spanish.

### someone who, above all else, you kind of fall in love with - viii

Lance... maybe... likes him back.

### i finished my paper at four this morning - v

After they win. After they win. They can do whatever they want after they win. Keith can't let this happen before then - he has to focus on winning... but _after_ that...

### takeout is better when you're broke and there are leftovers in the fridge - viii

Koidra disappears before the assault. Radios Keith and lets him know he's with the Castle of Lions already, but he's physically nowhere where Keith can see him. Which is fine - but also annoying. So Keith just decides to play the cards he's been dealt and rolls with it, beckoning Kkomrhi Lauksh forward again. She's good with combat - better than him half the time. He loves training with her.

It gets his mind off of things.

And he desperately needs that, right now, with the ship hurtling toward Heptavitrine in hyperdrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo i promise if you've commented then yes i've seen your comments but life is hella busy and im a little behind on my ao3 inbox so i'll catch up with you all once i have the rest of this fic posted but i love and appreciate you xoxoooxoxoxoxoxoox thank you
> 
> also this is a shitshow it's a year old and i can do so much better so if you like this writing i beg you to check out any of my other fics because this one is s o b a d


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man this is so stupid also lotor is hella out of character because i wrote this back like right after season 2 released so hnghgh sorry

### beginner’s luck doesn’t win any medals - i

"Final overview of the plan," Keith commands.

"Voltron comes in and attacks Zidov directly," Pidge responds dutifully. "Nyma and Bindle lead their groups to battle the queen and king respectively. Status update every two vargas. The Commander leads Blueshift general cavalry to set down every pi over six radians, we effectively surround Lotor and control the system."

"Phase two," Keith prompts, nodding as he paces back and forth erratically, rubbing his ring to distract from the dancing ball of nerves in his gut.

"Land on tip 247 of Tektor," Matt announces, going over maps _again._ What a cartographer. Med student, part time GPS. "Barricade the castle, prepare for combat. Commander Koidra commences military advancement, with the possible aid of the Heptavitrines if negotiations work out well."

"We flush Lotor out to the top," Lance says, stepping up to Keith and placing his hands on his shoulders, forcing him to stop pacing and meet the smile on Lance's face. "Take him out. Calm down, Samurai," and _fuck,_ those blue eyes. Keith swallows and nods once, curt, and Lance's hands drop. Not for the first time today, he wonders if Lance is doing okay, if they’ll be able to finish this off without having to worry about Lance’s dementia…

Something red flashes on the screen in front of his chair, and he turns to the bigger wall display that shows the approaching planet of Heptavitrine. Two elongated prisms stacked on top of each other at the base, hovering around the swirling angry yellow core. Keith focuses on the darker portions of the bases - that's where they'll be going. They're half a Varga away if they keep at cruising speed.

"Can we call it Divitrine, then?" Lance asks, always trying to diffuse the tension, but -

"It's time to form Voltron," Keith says quietly. Flicks his eyes to Matt. Takes note of the determined posture. Smiles tightly.

Maybe this can work out.

### someone who, above all else, you kind of fall in love with - ix

They shatter through the glass. Coran flies the ship close behind them and lodges the particle barrier in the hole to prevent the Heptavitrines from covering it as Voltron continues forward, slashing through everything, leaving destruction in its path. Most of it is a blur for Keith - he's fully in sync with the other four, and as the head he's mostly sitting there with his eyes closed, seeing through the intuitions of the other Paladins and their Lions. It's different from his days long ago as the Red Paladin, when all he was in charge of was cutting down what the Black Paladin wanted him to. Now he's the leader - he's Voltron itself - the others are extensions of his own will. It's overwhelming and exhilarating and draining... but. They have to win.

Zidov doesn't meet them in battle. They don't find him, even as they reach the lowest levels of the second base and painstakingly extract all the prisoners, doing their best not to throw around too much debris. The Blueshift soldiers pour from the castle gates, running through the path Voltron clears and rushing forward to help get the freed prisoners on board the Castle of Lions.

They find him immediately after, scrambling to get inside an escape pod.

Matt crushes it underfoot. Keith doesn't feel a single ounce of regret, and the rest are too battle-hardened over the years to feel much of it either. Lance still maintains some of his humanity, but Keith can feel the cold satisfaction emanating from the Red Lion as they finally, _finally_ take out Allura's murderer.

"Keith," Pidge's voice in his ear. "No more dark thoughts. It seems like we're done here. Status updates should be coming in any moment now."

No more dark thoughts, all right.

Pidge is right, it's been two vargas.

"Alright. Let's break it up," he calls. Their work as Voltron is done.

The freedom of being in his own headspace is a comfort as they disassemble, being able to think as himself again rather than as the out-of-body concentrated energy he becomes when they form Voltron. Keith takes a minute to stand there in the wreckage as the Lions spread out around him, watching Lance blowtorch some metal into a glowing purple puddle with Red as he just breathes and processes.

"Every time we form Voltron, it feels weirder," he mutters into the comms. "Been noticing it since the day we left Earth. I feel more... connected, more in sync, less like myself."

"The individuality sort of leaves, yeah," Hunk responds. "We are one mind in that thing."

"That's the point, isn't it?" Matt says.

"Yeah, but we get closer together every time. I guess it's just something that comes with time," Keith murmurs.

"Definitely. Remember that first day when it took us the entire day to form Voltron?" Hunk recalls.

"Who could forget?" Pidge laughs.

Silence as they sit in nostalgia. And here they are, years after Keith and Pidge hurled a plate of green goo at Allura, now fighting the most important battle of their lives.

Down two members, but, hey, the rest of them have made it this far. One has dementia. One has lost touch with the others recently. One has become a master connoisseur of alien space engineering. One is talking to him-

"Nyma's report is coming in," Pidge states. Keith blinks and tunes into the Quasar radio channel - the first reports were supposed to be on wavelength...

He doesn't need to figure it out, because Pidge sends it to him. Nyma's voice fills the cockpit.

"... Casualty count six. We have effectively assumed control of the Queen sector. She's unharmed, but she won't be for long, I swear to god, if she-"

Bindle cuts her off. "Status report from Katrell 7. Officer Flure Bindle. Casualty count eleven. The king has been restrained, and we have gained control of King sector. It's a little shaky, but we should be keeping the insurgents at bay... scratch that, casualty count thirteen..." his voice fades off. Nineteen.

"Blueshift general cavalry, point starship Triumph 34, Yui Montrine. Arc 1 is... eighty percent under control. Casualty count twenty, even." ... Thirty nine.

"Blueshift general cavalry, point starship Casa Azul. Officer Riah Blaue. Arc 2 is under control. Casualty count thirteen." Forty, no, fifty two.

"Blueshift general cavalry point battleship Hira Rose 22, officer Celente Seheri. We're in full control of Arc 3 and we have a casualty count of two." Keith sighs through his nose. Things seem to have gone well with Arc 3. Fifty four.

"Blueshift general cavalry, point battleship Compass Gold Model 72." There's a slight snort from someone else's mic. "This is Reuge Drequi-Glonce. Arc 4 is putting up a bit of a fight. Casualty count twenty four, requesting backup." Seventy six.

"Maybe if you stopped flying ships from five decaphoebs ago, Reuge."

"I still win the races with her, so I don't see the problem, Bindle," is said with a kind of smirk behind the words.

"We'll send reinforcements," Seheri says, her clear articulation cutting off the friendly banter. People are in a good mood, and it relaxes Keith somewhat.

"Zarra Choukorr reporting from Triumph 1, Arc 5 is a go and _zero casualties!_ " Choukorr lets out a whoop. "We'll go bail out Reuge too." Seventy six, still, Keith thinks.

The next person flips on their mic with a burst of static and the sound of laser guns and explosions in the background. The voice fades in and out. "... ttleship Anela Midori.... mrhi Lauksh... Almost... comms are damaged... sualty count twenty one.. fine..."

The mic cuts off.

Keith waits a couple seconds, expecting Koidra’s voice, but when it doesn’t come, he speaks. “Choukorr, check in with Lauksh instead. I think I heard a casualty count of twenty one, make sure it doesn’t get any higher.” Eighty seven.

“Got it. I have to reverse course, now, but okay.”

Keith ignores her. “Next.” Wonders where Koidra is.

“Blueshift general cavalry, point battleship Draach 19. Officer Vixur Tsendouku. Casualty count thirty seven, but Arc 7 is clear and under control.”

Someone whistles. “Tsendouku, what the hell?” Keith thinks he recognizes Juerr’s voice.

“We had a couple traitors among our ranks,” Tsendouku says. “We’ve since eliminated the threat, but lost an entire ship in the process. Veneration 237 is down with all its members.”

There’s a moment of silence. Eighty seven… thirty seven… fourteen, one hundred twenty four? One hundred twenty four.

“Yuin Wejeri, Casualty count nineteen, wait, point battleship Triumph 47, and… Arc 8 is good to go. Still establishing full control, but we’re mostly good.” One hundred thirty three.

“Blueshift general cavalry, point battleship Leon 3. Adlis Haklit reporting from Arc 9, eighty seven casualties. Requesting serious reinforcements. I’m currently cloaked and hiding from the Heptavitrines - their force is weakened, but we don’t have enough to continue the assault.”

There’s a squabble of voices. Keith dials up the volume from his mic. “Everyone whose Arc is clear, take half your ships and reinforce Arc 9. Quickly, I want minimal delay. We should have full control within the next two vargas, this will not stand. Haklit, I want another status report in half a varga.” Arc 9 is the one closest to Tektor, he thinks.

“Arc 10 is clear. Officer Viyyx Dyfane from Circinus 7-” oh, the other girl Lance was reportedly flirting with- “sending reinforcements as I speak. Our casualty count is seven.”

“Point battleship Andromeda 4, Je’lynne Eou. We’re also clear at Arc 11, on our way to Arc 9. Casualty count six.” Seven and six is thirteen, plus eighty seven is one hundred. Which makes two hundred twenty four.

“Zialis Rhededroshi. Veneration 1 is almost clear of Arc 12, casualty count of eigh-nineteen. We’ll head over to Arc 9 soon.”

“Reuge Drequi-Glonce again, point-battleship Compass Gold Model 72. Arc 4 is almost clear.”

“This is Seheri. After Arc 4, I’ll head to Arc 9.”

Keith waits for any more comments, then takes in a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. “Okay. Carry on. Half a varga, Haklit. We’ll use the first wavelength.” Keith closes out of the Blueshift Comms and inhales deeply again, trying to calm himself. “Two hundred thirty three casualties in the first two vargas,” he mumbles.

“We’re still going to win, Keith,” Matt says into the comms, as Keith hears a distant, “Pidge Holt, Green Paladin of Voltron. Casualty count zero, and the Galra bases are clear.” Shit. He forgot to send his own status report.

Pidge speaks into Voltron’s comms again. “Keith, Juerr and Chlom report three casualties from the Castle of Lions.” Keith closes his eyes. Two hundred thirty six. Who knows how many more injured. Is it his fault, for pushing the alliance to attack so soon? Is is Koidra’s fault for running an alliance that couldn’t go two hours without losing two hundred thirty six people? “Wait, Keith.” Hm? “You’re wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“The total casualty count is two hundred seventy seven. You must have missed something.”

… Keith doesn’t answer. The number hangs in the air - two. Fucking. Vargas. And they have almost three hundred people dead.

They sit in silence for the next few moments, until suddenly it all mounts over and spills and Keith needs to _do_ something, _now_.

"I'm heading out. Gonna help comb through this base, make sure it's cleaned out," he declares, standing and turning away from Black's cockpit. "Three hundred people didn't die for any Galra to escape today."

"I'll come with you, love," Matt's voice filters through.

"Same." Pidge.

"Me, too." Lance.

"Well, I'm not going to stay here alone," Hunk says.

Keith scowls as he exits out through the Black Lion's mouth. "No. No one is coming with me." Then he reconsiders. "Actually, Lance, you are. Let's go."

In case something happens.

In case his dementia hits or something and the rest of the team notices.

And maybe, maybe a little bit because he just. He wants Lance close to him.

"Sweet," is his answer. Keith breathes a soft sigh of relief. Lance walks out of the Red Lion's mouth, waving to Keith and jogging to catch up as Keith heads back in the direction of the escape pods.

They don't talk much. They find several Galra still breathing, a couple more who try to fight back, another one who Lance shoots from a distance as he tries to escape.

Keith shifts his bayard from sword to gun. "I still don't have the hang of that," he mutters. With guns and blasters, his main strategy is to just shoot wildly until it hits.

"Damn, wait, you can do that?" Lance mumbles, staring at Keith's bayard. Keith glances down. They figured it out with Allura years ago, but...

"Yeah. You can too."

"Really? Shit, sorry. I'm forgetful." Lance sends him a smile, but Keith can see the faint edge of panic beneath it.

And, shit. "It's fine... Lance..."

"Anyway," Lance is saying, always running his mouth to escape an awkward situation. "It's about patience. You aim-" he lifts his gun up- "breathe in, breathe out..." he focuses on the end of the hallway. "And shoot." He lowers his bayard instead of shooting, his eyes sliding sideways to look at Keith.

Keith swallows the small lump in his throat, because, fuck, Lance is just really hot when he's doing shit like this. "Yeah. Got it." Also because he's just a little emotional at being reminded of Lance's deteriorating mental state.

"It's not your thing. You're more of the attack headfirst type."

Keith nods. "Definitely." They've had this conversation before.

Lance grins. "It's why we work perfectly together, huh?" He sends Keith a wink before moving on, and Keith's left staring at the red armor that used to be his and blushing furiously.

"Yo, Keith." Matt on the comms. "I'm gonna play some music. We've got twenty more doboshes until Haklit's status report is due, I'm doing it."

"Go ahead," Keith murmurs. He really can't care less.

"Great."

Keith follows after Lance as it starts up, what sounds like electrical interference at first, wafting down the hall from the Blue Lion's speakers... or something. Keith's surprised that Matt can even play a CD in the Blue Lion.

They've just reached the top of a set of stairs and made it to the edge of a massive control room when the actual music starts. Keith's eyes widen slightly in recognition, Lance pausing in his walk halfway to the middle of the room.

Keith's mouth curves up into a smile as the words start up - _we took a walk last night but it wasn't the same..._

Lance turns around, his eyes soft. "We danced to this. Remember?"

Keith nods. "It's not like I'm going to forget that."

Lance grins and steps forward, offering Keith his hand. Keith raises his eyebrows.

"We're on a mission."

"Yeah, and we could die. Dance with me before we die."

Keith rolls his eyes. "We're not going to die." Finds himself taking Lance's hand, being pulled in close to the Red Paladin. Fuck.

Lance starts to move them gently side to side, his hand on Keith's waist. It's not a slow dance song, at all, but they dance like they did last time...

_Jenny was a friend of mine._

Lance chuckles low in his ear. "We _could_ die. So I'm gonna teach you to rumba. Right here. Right now." Keith's heart flutters in his throat. Lance pulls back, taking both of Keith's hands in his. "Match my steps. Back, two, and forward, two..." Keith trips up a little, but it pulls another tiny laugh from Lance, and he doesn't even _care_ because Lance's laughter lifts him high into the stars and he's floating.

"Okay, turn, step this way - twirl, Keith." Lance holds him at arm's length. Keith does his best, raising an eyebrow. Lance pulls him back in without warning, and Keith stumbles into him, fingers splayed on his chest as his hand comes up to break the fall. His nerves explode as he glances up into Lance's blue blue eyes.

Lance snorts.

"Graceful. Twirl again." Lance steps off to Keith's left and Keith spins once under his arm, letting himself be pulled back in. "Again." Fuck. Again? "And behind me-"

"I can't keep track of this," Keith huffs earnestly.

"That's good. Because you're doing terrible."

Keith frowns and pulls away. "Because we're in the thick of battle and you're _dancing,_ Lance."

Lance finds his hand and reels him back in. "Yeah, but it's fun. Come on, again."

Keith smiles despite himself. The song changes as it finishes off, into something much slower, much softer...

_Everything will be alright..._

Lance isn't trying to rumba with him, anymore. Keith has one hand on Lance's shoulder and one hand clasped in Lance's, hyperaware of Lance's fingers curled around his waist.

_Everything will be alright..._

Time blurs a little in the chorus.

_In love... tonight..._

And, fuck, Keith wants to do it _now,_ wants to ditch the plan and say fuck Lotor and just kiss Lance right now. Wants to pull Lance's face down to his so he can press his lips against him. But he shouldn't, not right now...

...

... so he doesn't.

They have time, don't they?

Just a few more hours. And then Keith can tell him, can _show_ him.

And Lance is dancing with him, is looking into his eyes unwaveringly, is flushed pink even though Lance doesn't usually blush and maybe, just _maybe_ he likes Keith back… because they wouldn’t have almost-kissed if Lance didn't feel the same, right?

The song ends.

Keith steps away from Lance, shrugging his shoulders a couple times. "We should, uh. Keep going." The next song starts up.

"Sure." Lance looks thoughtful as Keith turns toward the door. "I'm glad we did that, though."

Keith hesitates. "Me, too. Lance." He glances back once.

Soon. Right after they kill Lotor. No regrets, right? And he has a good feeling about this.

### beginner’s luck doesn’t win any medals - ii

They make it back to the rest of the Lions with a couple doboshes to spare before the half-hour report. Keith tunes into the channel and waits, thoughts wandering, until the tell-tale crackle of someone else's mic grabs his attention.

"Status report from Adlis Haklit, pilot of Leon 3?"

"I'm listening," Keith confirms.

"Things are going okay. We'll be able to overcome the forces on this side, but it seems they've consolidated their numbers. Uh... do you want a casualty count?"

"Save it for the two-varga mark," Keith mutters. "Do you still need extra backup?"

"No, no it's - we have it under control. We can wrap this up by ourselves, probably."

"Probably?" Pidge questions, and there's a slight grunt before someone else's voice comes onto the mic.

"This is Riah Blaue from Casa Azul. Arc 8 is steady progress, we'll be good to go before the next two-varga mark. Sorry, I meant Arc 9."

 _Sorry, I meant Arc 9._ Hunk's voice speaks in Keith's ear from the Voltron comms in his helmet. "Keith, something doesn't feel right. All of these pilots are perfectionists, and they're seasoned fighters. They sound too nervous. Something's wrong."

"Oh- okay," Keith says, trying to think fast. He's learned to trust Hunk's gut over the years. "Wh... We'll do a quick fly-by. Just to double check on the ring."

"No, don't-" Zarra Choukorr's voice cuts off sharply.

"We're coming," Keith says decisively, his stomach twisting. Something's wrong. Something's wrong. Something has gone wrong. "Voltron is on its way."

There's a brief moment of silence and faint crackling through the radio channel accompanied by a distant, _"change of plans."_

Then there's laughter, filling the cockpit - a cold, harsh, mirthless sound that pierces the air like a blade. Slow clapping follows soon afterwards.

The lights turn off outside the Black Lion. Keith tightens his grip on the controls.

"Ah, Black Paladin. So predictable. So presumptuous... so weak. Your trust is so easy to break. Your species... such a vulnerable one."

It takes a second to register.

Then: "Lotor," Pidge seethes.

"Correct! Gold medal to the Green Paladin. Your parents would be so proud - oh, speaking of which, how's Dad? He didn't look so well last time I saw him."

"What are you talking about," Matt growls into his end of the line.

"Now it's getting interesting. Where are your others, Black Paladin? Don't they all get their turn to speak, one by one?"

" _What do you know about my dad?_ " Matt demands.

"Mm, nothing much, couldn't say I knew the man for very long. I know his hair color, the name of his children, Matt. And Katie."

"My name's not Katie," Pidge bites.

Lotor continues as if he didn't hear. "Oh, his last words."

"You fucking-" the rest of Pidge's sentence blurs with Matt's as they both yell at once.

"Stop," Keith shouts. "Pidge! Matt!"

"Mmmmmm." Lotor's amused hum shuts them both down. "Want to know what they are? Maybe you can make it in time to hear them yourself, before he breathes his last."

There's another pained grunt through the line, and then a tortured, "Matt... Katie..." and it's not a voice Keith recognizes.

Pidge lets out a strangled sob.

"The clock is ticking a little faster down here on Tektor," Lotor says soothingly into the mic. "I've got sixteen of the bravest, stupidest pilots in the universe, one disgustingly loving father, and a smart double agent with loyalty to the empire and a gun. Say hello, Commander."

"You'd better come quick, Kogane." The sound of Koidra's voice dumps ice into Keith's blood.

The crackling goes silent.

"... form Voltron?" Lance murmurs softly from his end.

Keith forces himself to breathe.

...

"Yes."

### the third stair creaks and you need to cover the wrappers with other trash - iii

The transmission comes in as they're halfway to the Tektor peak. Pidge links him in - it's Juerr.

"Keith," she hisses into the mic.

"I'm here, Juerr," he confirms, eyes on the nearing planet.

"I don't know how much about this you know already, but the Commander never trusted you to begin with," she says. Keith frowns, his confusion reflected five-fold by the rest of his team, except for... Matt.

"I never trusted him, either," he says. He can feel the mild surprise of everyone else, again, except for Matt - but that makes sense, seeing as he's complained to Matt about everything Koidra-related since day fucking one.

"So we allied with Quasar when neither you nor Koidra trusted each other?" Lance says skeptically.

" _Allura_ allied with Koidra. I'm just finishing the job," Keith says.

"Okay! I don't have much time!" Juerr says urgently. "There's more to it than that. I don't know what you believe about spirituality-"

Lance and Pidge immediately turn cynical. Matt, on the other hand, feels grim. "I know now," Matt cuts in.

"Right. Chlom just told me, I didn't know, I swear - I would have put an end to it. But that's one thing - other matters aside, Haggar isn't here. Lotor sent her to launch an attack directly on-"

A piercing scream cuts through the transmission - Keith's hands immediately fly up to his ears as Voltron abruptly halts, drifting through space uncontrolled. The sound waves pierce through, feeling like they're shattering his eardrums - his very vision vibrates as the transmission crackles with bursts of static at the volume. Keith grunts in pain, squeezing his ears.

The sound changes to a distant, shattered, drawn out " _No!_ " and then another cry of pain.

"What _was_ that?" Pidge demands.

"That was a mermaid's scream," Hunk says grimly.

"Hurry, Paladins," Lotor's voice sings into the transmission. Then it cuts out.

"What did she mean," Keith says quietly, "about spirituality?"

Matt winces. Keith can tell. "Okay, um, with stuff like enlightenment and shit... the basic idea is if you master spirituality, and this is unrelated to any religion or god, but you can... control people? You can do stuff to them that could influence their behavior or their decisions. So I've suspected it for a long time now, with the way you've been distancing yourself from Lance and Pidge and Hunk, the way you've been hanging out with me and Juerr and Kkomrhi."

"Okay, get to the point," Pidge says impatiently.

"Basically, Koidra has had Keith separated from the rest of you, interacting with members of Quasar, effectively indirectly controlling Voltron."

Keith struggles to think about that. "So, what? He's trying to break us up? Trying to make me listen to him? Because I doubt that's been working out in his favor."

"No, no," Matt sighs. "It actually makes perfect sense. How much of our final plan has actually been your input, Keith? If he's been working with Lotor this whole time, he probably planned this the way he did - separate Voltron from the rest, Lotor takes the pilots, we're having difficulty the whole time asserting anything else because he has Keith under this dumb thing, and... final showdown at Tektor, as planned, but instead of Voltron, Lotor comes out victorious. And the lack of communication between you and the rest of us makes Voltron easy to manipulate. We've been played."

"By you," Keith accuses.

"No! I didn't know any of this, I swear."

"But you suspected."

"What," Pidge cuts in. "Would you have believed it if he told you the Commander was putting you under some freaky spell?"

"It's not a spell, because it's not magic," Matt mutters.

"But it's still like freaky voodoo control," Lance counters.

"Okay, this isn't helping. Whatever it is, Voltron can still fight, and we're the most powerful weapon in the universe," Hunk says forcefully. "Guys, I get it, Lotor has the upper hand right now, but as long as we keep fighting back, we haven't lost. I mean, we beat Zarkon, Quasar or not. So this will be fine. Also, Juerr and Chlom are on our side, right? They warned us."

Keith fumes for a second. "Hunk, Matt, full thrusters. We continue as planned. And when we get there, we unleash hell." He doesn't know how to feel about this.

"So that's why Keith's decided none of us are worth his time lately," Lance says as they power forward.

"I _didn't_ decide that!" Keith says frustratedly. "We have a mission to finish, please just stand with me on this."

"Well, he didn't," Matt continues. "The Commander did. Kept him busy and away from you guys. It's like Altean magic, but more subtle, just influences rather than actual actions."

"You're making no sense," Keith growls.

"I'm defending you!"

"Actually, you have been pretty distant, right up until we visited the Facilitator at Redshift," Hunk adds. "Maybe she... lifted it, or whatever."

Keith sighs and closes his eyes, reaching out mentally. Voltron is distracted, five different thought processes. He collects them and points them toward one word - _focus._ Images from Voltron's eyesight start filtering in behind his eyelids as they regain their concentration, quintessence flowing more freely.

Not that this isn't worth discussing - but just, not when they're this close. It's worrying, yes, but he feels connected - he _does_ feel like there was a distance that has been closed. So it's okay. They'll move forward.

### beginner’s luck doesn’t win any medals - iii

The Castle of Lions is standing tall but dead on the Tektor peak. The light from it is gone - the glass is dark, like it was on that first day before Allura powered it up.

Keith charges right in.

They get closer and find all the Galra ships surrounding the Castle - Voltron slices through them all, sparing not a single one. He doesn’t understand what Lotor’s grand plan is here - he’s not out here. His men are just dying. They don’t have a chance against Voltron, especially grounded the way they are.

“This feels like a trap,” Hunk frets.

Keith finds himself nodding. “Yeah. But there’s no choice. He has the sixteen most talented pilots in Quasar, and none of them are dying on my watch.”

But it doesn’t stop.

The Galra just keep coming, wave after wave - it’s exhausting, mentally draining, Keith can’t keep up. He can feel Voltron weakening. And for _what?!?!_ Lotor is still nowhere in sight. The Castle remains dead. There are no new transmissions - Galra just keep _dying_.

“Can we hail them?” he demands of Pidge.

“Keith, I think they’re hiding out in the Castle of Lions,” Lance says.

“Contact the Castle,” Keith orders. Pidge sets him up - he wastes no time. “I’m here. What do you want? Let them go, and come out and fight,” Keith growls.

Silence. No reply. Keith screams in frustration and pounds on the side of his seat. “He’s drawing us into the Castle. Lance, I want you to clear all the Galra out here. I don’t care how long it takes. We’re not going in until there’s no one left outside.”

“On it,” Lance says, and Keith thrusts his bayard into the slot of the Black Lion’s dashboard. Flames explode and race down Voltron’s sword, engulfing his vision for a minute, before they’re off - Lance is swinging, Pidge is defending, Hunk and Matt are skillfully maneuvering Voltron around the worst of the cannon blasts.

Keith loses track of time. He doesn’t know how long it takes, just that they all dissemble without him even giving the order because they’re just too mentally exhausted to hold formation anymore. He takes a moment to compose his strength from within the Black Lion, the stars of the astral plane fading in briefly, before he forces himself to stand and trudge out of the cockpit.

They’re all waiting for him outside. He hefts his Bayard. “The Castle is unresponsive,” Pidge says. “We can’t access the Lion hangars.”

“He’s in there,” Hunk grunts, and Keith nods, shaking his arm out.

“Let’s go.”

The Castle is unreasonably big. The door shuts behind them, leaving them in pitch darkness, and Keith frowns, using his jetpack to propel him quickly toward the control room.

It’s empty. So Lance suggests they head to the observation deck instead, the room with the crystal. It’s where the Galra went the last time they broke into the castle.

When he does finally get there, the door opens and he stops dead in his tracks, fingers constricted around the grip of his bayard so tight they’re numb. Lotor is facing them, holding Commander Holt up with his arms behind his back, sword levelled at the man’s throat. His face is leaking dark red, and Lotor’s smile is accentuated cruelly in the pale cyan light of the Balmera crystal.

“Let him go!” Pidge snarls, starting forward, but Lotor inches his sword closer and Commander Holt’s groan makes them freeze, emotions warring with the muscles of their face.

"I have a proposal for you, defenders of the universe," Lotor announces, Commander Holt shivering in his arms. Keith's eyes dart to the left, where two of Lotor's generals - a big one and one with a cat - are standing guard around a box of light. Inside he can see the point pilots. "You can take this Castle and walk free with all your friends unharmed. My generals and I will take Voltron. You may return to Earth and live peacefully. I will ensure that your planet is protected and unharmed by the Galra empire."

"Sounds a little too good to be true," Hunk accuses. Eyes flick to the right, where Koidra stands with a stony expression, side by side with another Galra lady Keith immediately recognizes from the weblum. Well, okay. Small universe.

"I keep my word, Yellow Paladin. If, however, you refuse, I will take what I want, and no one in this room will walk free. Your planet will be absorbed into the empire and you will either be imprisoned for life or you will die trying to fight for your freedom. Either way, I get what I want, so whatever you choose, I'm happy to oblige."

Keith levels Lotor with a glare, purple to purple - he sees nothing else. Lotor is just waiting for them.

Commander Holt is positioned masterfully. Not a single major organ of Lotor's is within striking distance.

Keith pulls in a slow breath, and then lets it out very, very gently. Then: "Lance," he breathes, and everything springs into action all at once.

A beam of blue light pierces the air and pinpoints Lotor's middle finger - the sword flies out of Lotor's hand and Commander Holt drops to the floor. Pidge dives to catch him, landing hard on their shoulder so their father's head doesn't hit the floor. Lotor steps back right as something invisible blindsides Keith's jaw from the right - his whole body spins to follow with the force of the blow. It knocks him to the floor and as he watches through double vision, the same force knocks Hunk aside and then Matt - so, Lotor has someone who can turn invisible, then.

"Wait!" Keith groans. Before this accelerates out of control. "Wait, we accept. We'll... we'll go back to Earth. Let us walk free."

And everything stops.

Except Lance.

"What?! Keith?"

"Lance, just shut up," Keith groans, pulling himself up to his feet. "We accept."

"Are you cra-"

" _Lance._ " And Lance must be able to tell. Must be able to read the insistence in his voice. Must understand. Because he narrows his eyes and then he nods.

Another Galra lady materializes from thin air, her skin orange. She's smiling. "Very well," Lotor says. "Fall back." This is addressed obviously toward his generals. Lotor is the first to leave the room, strides confident as Keith glares at his retreating back. The blue one is the last to leave. She holds her blaster up from the hallway and shoots at a corner of the light cell surrounding the pilots - a small metal device melts under the laser and the two walls it touches flicker out.

She settles a critical eye over Keith for a heartbeat before turning and following after Lotor.

"What are you doing," Lance demands as soon as she's out of view.

Keith shakes his head. "Matt, make sure your dad's safe. Pidge, Hunk, see if you can figure out why the Castle isn't working. Power it back up. Lance, you and I are going after Lotor. He'll probably have a ship to take the Lions away in, because he's too careful to risk using them as his ride back. We're going to sneak aboard that ship." Keith pauses. "Lotor underestimates the psychic link between Lion and Paladin. He won't get Voltron."

"We're with you, Keith," Kkomrhi declares, stepping forward, gripping her twin swords.

"Absolutely." Juerr shoots them a grin. "I'm in this until the end." Chlom nods, reaching to grip Juerr's hand in hers.

"Lance, I'm by your side," Riah Blaue promises.

Zialis Rhededroshi is already walking to Hunk’s and Pidge’s side. “I’ll help you guys. One of the first things Lotor did was disable the Castle’s AI.”

“That’s smart,” Flure Bindle says, whistling. “An AI could have stopped him if it was smart enough to override your safeguards.”

“Mine would have been,” Pidge scowls. “That’s just rude, Lotor.”

Keith turns to Juerr as they continue their discussion. “Wait for me. I’ll ground Lotor’s ship, and then we attack, Lance and I inside and you guys from outside.”

Kkomrhi smiles, holding her arm up - they clap their palms together and pull in to pat each other’s backs. “Good luck, Keith,” she says.

“Thanks.” Keith’s eyes flick to Lance, who’s patting Riah Blaue on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

### jenny was a friend of mine - vi

The ship is nowhere in sight when they step outside from a side exit. The Lions are still standing, towering above them, heads held high and proud but dark. Keith can feel Black’s sentience, still - they’re completely untouched. Keith furrows his brows. “Should we head to our Lions, and maybe scan for them? They can’t be gone, right? They want Voltron,” Lance breathes in his ear.

Keith shivers at the closeness. “There’s no one inside…” He focuses again, just in case - and, no, Black is unchanged, dormant, waiting for him. No one in her cockpit. “Let’s…” he glances up, scanning the sky. Turns. Moves forward toward the front of the castle.

His strides edge longer, faster, toward Black. Lance is right, maybe they can scan for Lotor and his generals. He’s pretty sure Black can recognize Koidra, at least.

Its eerily quiet until he makes it to the point midway between the Castle and the Black Lion. That’s when there’s the sound of an acute burst of energy. That’s when Lance grunts, nearly screaming through his teeth, and drops to the ground, hand to his side. Keith whips around, bayard clutched tightly - the orange-skinned Galra materializes and giggles.

He switches his bayard to a gun and shoots, but she disappears again and someone else comes up behind Keith, arms over his shoulders and expertly spinning the gun out of his grip. He slips out of his grip and turns around to punch Koidra in the face. In two seconds flat he’s on him, fists flying, wrestling for his bayard back, listening to the bursts from Lance’s gun as he shoots at someone else.

“Kkomrhi,” he growls into the comms, just as Lotor’s smooth chuckle breaks through the air.

“You’re so predictable,” he mutters, and Keith gets his grip on his bayard - wrenches it away from Koidra - aims a kick straight up into the idiot’s jaw - swings around to meet Lotor sword-to-sword.

The malevolent shade of red that Keith knows is signature to Juerr’s gun just misses the edge of Lotor’s shoulder - and then the rest of their point pilots, or the ones who aren’t back helping Pidge and Hunk - are running into the fight against Lotor and his generals. The atmosphere has blown from calm to nerve wracking in two seconds.

Lotor’s moves are smooth and precise, aiming at everywhere Keith knows his defense is weak. He’s been training with Kkomrhi long enough to know how to improvise and counter, but Lotor shows no signs of wearing down.

And things start to go wrong.

Lotor’s generals are good. _Really good._ Koidra’s down after two shots from Lance, who’s still on the ground - _why won’t he get up_ \- but other than him, Lotor’s side suffers not a single loss.

But as Keith watches, Yui Montrine takes a flying knife to the throat, and he’s down.

As Keith struggles to keep up with Lotor’s swordsmanship, Vixur Tsendouku’s armor absorbs one to many laser shots and it melts - the next one goes through to his chest.

As Lotor lands a blow straight across Keith’s chestplate and he staggers back, nearly losing his footing, Je’lynne Eou, the quiet girl with the indigo hair’s arm is pulled back and she’s forced to the ground.

He’s losing.

The castle powers up as Lance shoots a beam to the center of Lotor’s chestplate. “Keith, the rest of us are on our way,” he hears, Pidge’s voice determined in his ear. It’s coupled with five separate flashes of yellow light, Hunk’s bayard targeting all of Lotor’s generals. Keith struggles back to his feet, dropping back into his fighting stance as Lotor recovers.

And then something happens - Lotor raises a hand and something happens - his gauntlet glows - and white lightning shoots from his outstretched fingers, blowing through Zarra Choukorr and arcing back to the castle where it crackles around Hunk’s gun. Hunk’s thrown back against the wall and he slumps to the floor, limp, hopefully only unconscious because - because _fuck._

Keith slips into a panicky, animal-instinct in-the-moment state and the rest of the fight blurs together - everything’s now, he wastes no time even registering what happened in the past, doesn’t have space to even think about what’s gonna happen next - he dissolves into pure reaction and gut feelings. At some point he registers that everyone is either dead or unconscious except for the five of them, because _of course._ Of fucking _course_ it should come down to the five of them, in the end.

Hunk’s back up, and then he’s back down. Matt gets in a good blow with his staff and Lotor falls to his knees, but it’s a blunt weapon and then Lotor is blasting him back with magic. Pidge is down. Lance is down. Keith takes a hit straight to his helmet - the material sears into his fucking face, and he’s left screaming and clawing it off.

The air here is thin. Low on oxygen. But something about it - like an allergic reaction - something rejuvenates him, and he numbs out the pain, dragging his head back up to focus on how Pidge is getting back to their feet, the cord of their bayard sailing through the air like a whip.

Lance groans, eyes fluttering as he struggles to keep them open. Keith watches him from a haze, focuses on the hand clenched around his abdomen, the blood dripping from his hairline, leaking from his nose.

Something clicks into place.

Keith’s not going to die today.

Lance is not going to die today.

No one is going to die today except Lotor.

He loses himself in the feeling, rushing forward with every fucking milligram of his being, pouring his strength into his next strike, the atmosphere raising his awareness and his strength somehow. He connects with Lotor’s sword before Lotor has a chance to properly block, and it goes flying, Lotor’s wrist snapping back as the Prince hisses in pain.

“You’re going to die,” Keith promises.

### takeout is better when you're broke and there are leftovers in the fridge - ix

It’s slow.

### beginner’s luck doesn’t win any medals - iv

Lotor doesn’t fucking _quit._

### beginner’s luck doesn’t win any medals - v

Keith can’t even tell how long they’ve been fighting, just that they’re all gone, they’re all on the ground, most of their friends are dead and the rest are almost there. Lotor is dying.

But he’s still fighting.

### sunlight filters through ash to illuminate bloodied petals - v

Until he’s the last one standing. Him and Keith.

### let’s ride our bikes out to the arcade - iii

Keith heaves, gulping in breath after breath of the low-oxygen air. "Give up," he gasps. "It's over." It feels like he’s drawing energy purely from the rock around him. Didn’t Matt say something about how it aligned well with Galra physiology? Back when they briefed for this months and months ago? Koidra probably didn’t count on Keith being Galra.

Lotor merely laughs in his face, flecks of blood flying out of his mouth as he immediately falls into coughs. "Has anyone ever told you," he rasps, "you fight like the Galra, Black Paladin? A Black Lion trend... perhaps." The words are just playing, trying to buy time, because Keith knows Lotor is defeated in this moment.

Keith's muscles sear as he clenches his teeth and stumbles to his feet again, raising his bayard above his head and letting out a scream as he rushes the grinning Prince. He wants this finished. He wants to be done. Lotor brings up his own magic in defense, more instinct than anything - the thin film of light shatters as Keith's bayard strikes the surface and rebounds. "I _am_ Galra," Keith growls, stumbling and falling to his knees. Exhaustion is clawing at every joint, but he strains to keep himself upright. He hefts his bayard again, switching hands. His eye screams in agony where his helmet took the hit earlier, blinding him, and he tightens his grip in an effort to distract himself from the feeling.

"Keith..." the soft sound comes from Keith's left, from Lance, from the body crumpled in a heap on the uneven black rock underneath them. "Keith, his hand.." Keith focuses on Lotor's arms, his ragged breathing drowning out whatever Lance is trying to say. His body is failing him. They need more oxygen - his helmet is somewhere behind him, damaged - Lotor is holding his right arm off to the side, the fingers glowing faintly - his left arm is flexing in pain, having unintentionally absorbed the energy from Keith's blow - Keith's bayard is so heavy - he begins to step forward again - he _hates_ his limited vision-

The last thing he registers is Lotor's sudden smile, his eyebrows sliding close together as his eyes narrow and his flashing white teeth emerge from behind his curling lips. Then he’s being slammed to the side as white lightning floods his vision. He forces himself to keep his eyes trained on Lotor, whose head lolls backward as he collapses from the exertion. Then Keith hits the ground and is rolling, coming to a stop so he stares up at the white-grey sky above. The light to his right dies just as fast as it streaked into existence, going out with one last brilliant glare that forces his eyes closed. As soon as his eyelids connect, he loses consciousness.

### jenny was a friend of mine - vii

"Where's Lance?" is the shout that finally pulls Keith back to consciousness. His vision is dull, half of his entire face swollen and too painful to even think about for a good thirty seconds. The shouting blurs together in his head, his right ear oddly stifled. "Where is he?"

"Where's his ship?"

"Answer me!" This one is a growl. "You're not dead yet, and I can make it so you wish you were a hundred times more than you currently do."

"Threatening. Little girl says she'll-"

There’s sudden movement, armor sliding over armor, harsh contact and a strangled noise. More coughing - it shoots into Keith's head and explodes in every neuron. He’s having a _migraine._ he manages to open his one eye to notice that he’s looking out from behind a helmet's sealed visor, which is probably why he’s breathing okay. Keith braces himself, mentally numbing the pain, and struggles off the ground. His shin is cut from the battle, but the bleeding is slow and he thinks it’ll be okay. For now.

Time blurs and he is standing in front of Lotor, who’s fluttering in and out of life. "Where," Pidge growls, bayard smoking as it burns a couple millimeters into Lotor's throat, blood bubbling up and hissing as it meets the heat. "Is. Lance."

Lotor's voice is quiet but still jeering as he whispers, "he's gone."

Keith's heart is flipping clockwise in his chest, in the opposite direction of everything revolving around the universe. Everything inside him is going wrong.

"He's been erased from existence."

Hunk tightens his hold on Lotor's arms, twisted behind him to keep from aiming magic. "What do you mean," he says in a low, threatening voice.

"You won't find your Blue Paladin, in this universe, in another universe, in another dimension." Lotor starts to cry, the light starting to fade from his eyes. Something sick twists in Keith’s gut, because he understands - he gets what just happened.

Lotor was aiming for him.

Galra, true and true, fighting until the last breath. Lotor was trying to _erase Keith from existence._

And Lance shoved Keith out of the way, taking the blast himself. And Lotor is - is _crying,_ and as much as Keith despises him, something about that is hurting at him inside.

"He's been eradicated from reality itself…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip


	8. Chapter 8

### sunlight filters through ash to illuminate bloodied petals - vi

Grief - real grief isn't _just_ the big things. Like, yeah, part of it is the funeral he can't think through. Part of it is numbly mouthing the words to a speech until all that comes out is nonsense and Matt pulls Keith away from the mic so he can say his piece.

Part of it is not being able to walk into the room nextdoor because it smells like Him but he knows it won't for much longer.

Part of it is reading off the names - “Je'lynne Eou, Viyyx Dyfane, Adlis Haklit, Yuin Wejeri, Vixur Tsendouku, Zarra Choukorr, Reuge Drequi-Glonce, Yui Montrine,” and Zialis Rhededroshi taking over, because Keith can’t bring himself to say Juerr’s name, can’t bring himself to even _think_ \- - think - His name.

Part of it is clutching His jacket to his chest, fingering the cut on the shoulder he made such a long time ago.

Part of it is looking in the mirror at a broken face and crying.

Part of it is screaming at the malfunctioning AI until it feels like his throat is bleeding.

But the rest of it - the rest of it is worse.

Grief is realizing only one eye is capable of crying at all.

Grief is when Hunk tries to talk to him, says, "remember when we were kids and-"

And he has to cut him off and say "no" because he never got to be a fucking kid.

Grief is trying to fix the AI so it stops spitting back shattered dialogue and fractured images.

Grief is watching Nyma don the new Red Paladin armor.

Grief is not being able to form Voltron for weeks.

Grief is finally eating dinner with his team again - but instead of reuniting them it just emphasizes the hole in their hearts.

Grief is seeing his own past mirrored in Coran's warweary face.

Grief is when he realizes He was still going betting and gambling when they were with Quasar, so now they don't have the same amount of money - but hell if Keith can ever find the spirit to do it now, so he guesses it's just going to stay that way forever.

Grief is watching Pidge finally break down. Watching her start going by 'she' again because she doesn't want to remember that anything has changed. Watching her grow out her hair and tie it up like Princess Leia - "She was my idol as a kid." Calling her Katie. Being unable to pry her away from Commander Holt's bedside as he recovers from... imprisonment, or whatever.

Grief is Matt, having promised to save Mr. Brightside for his father’s return, never touching the CD again.

It's staring at Earth in the observation deck instead of sleeping because that's what He did so that's what Keith does. It's missing his home planet - not exactly for himself, but because He isn't there to miss it anymore so that's what Keith does.

And the _funniest_ part - the part that's _abso-fucking-lutely hilarious_ is how they keep looking for Him. Because He didn't die, did He? There was no body, right? Erased from existence - so, what? Lotor was weak. Coran thinks there's a possibility his spell didn't follow through. So they keep fucking looking for it. For the body. Preferably, alive, although Keith's stretched to the point that they could find a strand of His _hair_ and he'd cry from joy.

And the saddest part is when Hunk's trying to fix the AI and he figures out how to scan them for their ages - Keith's twenty four, now. He's spent seven years out here but it feels like so much longer - it feels like he should be in his forties - but at the same time it feels like there's _no fucking way_ they've been in space that long - no _fuck_ ing _way_ Keith's passed into adulthood, is old enough to drink and buy cigarettes, is old enough to get married, is old enough to adopt a kid and raise a family.

It's not Keith who brings this up, though.

It's Hunk.

He's the one telling Keith he's old enough to do all this shit he doesn't want to do anymore because He is gone and that means Keith's stuck loving a ghost, that means he's stuck becoming Hunk's new best friend, he's stuck being Katie's new adoptive older brother.

And he doesn't want to because that wasn't his job before and it feels wrong that it is now.

He cuts Quasar's ridiculous military operations in half with Commander Loreal's help, uses the money to compensate the families of all the pilots who gave their lives in the last battle. Celente and Kkomrhi and Riah Blaue - they stay with Redshift, with their families, because they decide they’ve seen enough of war and they want to spend time with people they love. Zialis stays with the Castle because _apparently_ Zialis and Katie are a thing. Keith has a tough time facing Juerr’s family - Chlom kills herself a couple weeks after they defeat Lotor, and Keith just fucking _wishes_ he could do the same.

But he can't.

Because Hunk's pretty unstable and Katie's pretty unstable and he may _also_ be pretty unstable but he still cares so. He can't.

He’s visiting Juerr’s family and he’s slowly twisting the hair ornaments out of his braids, but Juerr’s mom stops him. “This is a mark of honor, of bravery. They were meant for Juerr, but she told me before she left that she’d prefer that they passed to you. Do not take them off.”

It has Keith’s hands stilling, dropping. “Koidra never deserved them, then,” he says, his voice dark and dangerous with emotion.

“He was a good man, once,” Juerr’s brother, the older one who’d spent years in the hospital, the one with a limp, says. “Juerr said she was with him the day he came back from the Facilitator with them woven into his hair.”

“They come from the Facilitator?”

“They come from Commander Loreal. She has a psychic link with the Facilitators. They’re just pieces of jewelry, really, but they mean something to us. Keep it. Wear it for Juerr. She wanted to see the entire universe, so take some part of her with you when you do.”

The younger siblings don’t want him to leave. Lian won’t stop crying - Azhquin is a lot angrier about the whole thing. So Keith gives him his ring.

He doesn’t want to part with it.

But he’s pretty sure if he had to give it to anyone, it would have been La- it would have been Him. So. He does his best to explain the meaning it’s supposed to hold, and leaves it with Azhquin. Because he sees himself in Azhquin, and it’s the saddest thing that could happen to a child.

They organize soldiers against the remaining Galra fleets that are still out there, disorganized and unconnected, but still fighting to try to hold on to the Galra empire. Quasar is still strong though, even without all the unnecessary money flowing into the pockets of top generals like Koidra's successor. Who disappears, actually. Keith doesn't think she'll turn up again. She was Koidra's niece, apparently, but... well, she's a survivor of a Galra attack on her home planet. She'll know how to take care of herself, wherever she is.

They fly their first mission with Nyma as the new Red Paladin after a good few months have passed. Voltron is still shaky enough that they're only able to hold it for a few seconds against the cruiser - Keith knows it's because of him, mostly. Him and Hunk. Nyma and Matt are okay, which makes Nyma and Katie okay, although part of that could be because Nyma let Katie keep Beezer. Hunk, on the other hand, went to visit Llurin with Keith while everyone else was with Rolo's family at his service - Llurin, the moon that reminds them of Earth, the one full of bioluminescent plant life, the one with the ocean. He's been there with Matt, with Him, and now with Hunk.

Hunk still doesn't like Nyma.

Keith doesn't either.

Hence, Llurin, and hence not being able to hold Voltron.

Keith _misses_ Him. More than he can bear. The Castle is frigid and dead without his presence. Keith's lost without the constant comfort and support of his right hand man - he's just a boy from Earth trying to fix an entire universe with alien technology he probably still doesn't even know all the secrets of.

It takes him a while to get used to it - and even then, it’s not really like he gets _used to it._ He still can’t say Lance’s name out loud. But he can’t avoid the thoughts any longer, can’t stop replaying the final moments of battle. He has nightmares about Lotor, crying, nightmares about reliving the blast of magic to his face that fucked up his eye.

Nightmares about the crushing weight of water pouring over their heads. Nightmares about Matt - he cuts all their dumb flirting off, because it was never serious in the first place and there’s no fucking point with Lance gone. Nightmares about Lance saying _thank you for saying I'm a born leader, I'm storing that away for the future to rub in your face_ and how he never did actually get a chance to bring it up again. Nightmares about rereading the article on space dementia in Matt’s room. Nightmares about the fucking song - _Jenny was a friend of mine_ \- and all the nostalgia that hits with every downbeat, memories of when they were still trying to deal with the concept of being at war, before they met Blueshift, memories of when Allura was alive, memories of _laughter_ and _dancing_ and mouthing the lyrics to this fucking Earth song Matt was broadcasting to them from across the universe.

Matt finally does play Mr. Brightside on the Castle speakers the day Commander Holt comes into the dining hall, walking on his own two feet after months, smiling and looking much better after his bedrest. Commander Holt cries. Keith sits still at his seat at the table and just grips his spoon, not eating, because Lance wanted to hear this song. He remembers how Lance wanted to hear this song and it’s cruel that they find Commander Holt right before Lance disappears - like it was a trade - and Keith sure as hell wouldn’t ever have made that trade if he’d had a goddamn _choice._

It makes him resent the Commander. Almost. But he’s kind and he’s insisting they call him Sam and Keith cares about Katie and Keith knows Katie deserves this and. And. And he finds himself leaving, getting up from the table and heading to the training deck.

Training sequence twenty three is child’s play to him these days. It’s Hunk who hooks up components of the AI software to the Gladiator, to create a dummy that’s constantly and forever evolving, keeping Keith on his toes.

It’s also Hunk who makes Keith the mask he wears now to conceal the broken half of his face, the ugly scars, the scary side that makes aliens wince when they’re in the middle of a diplomatic meeting or party.

It’s Hunk who ends up sleeping on the same mattress as Keith, either in his room or in Hunk’s, because god _damn_ does it feel good to know you’re not the only one grieving so deeply.

He still talks to Kkomrhi. She tells him about her life back home - he gets to know her family. He winds up asking her if she can get in contact with Juerr’s family, and that’s how Juerrs eldest brother winds up falling in love with Kkomrhi.

And it sets Keith thinking along that line of thought he’s always trying to avoid -

_Love._

Hunk and Shay.

Shiro and Allura.

Katie and Zialis.

Matt and Nyma.

Kkomrhi and Juerr’s brother.

Juerr and Chlom.

Reuge and Flure, although he finds this out much later from Kkomrhi.

Laurel and Koidra.

So simple - everywhere around him, and he’s just…

Alone…

Like always.

…

Whatever.

### the third stair creaks and you need to cover the wrappers with other trash - iv

Keith rockets forward in his bed before he can even breath, eye pulling open so wide he feels the cool air against every side of it. He immediately heaves a sob, one that tears through his throat mercilessly, the ugly kind. It takes only about 20 seconds before Hunk knocks at his door, and Keith lets it slide open, the castle picking up his brain activity and obeying his will. Hunk steps inside and settles on the bed next to Keith, pulling him in closer. They've been here before hundreds of times. He knows what to do, he knows Keith's going to sit there catching his breath and crying into Hunk's shirt for the next thirty minutes, knows it calms Keith when he rubs circles between his tense tense shoulder blades, knows that even after it passes, Keith will want to just sit there with him because it's better than the bitter loneliness that is life without Lance.

They sleep away the rest of the night, up bright and early again the next morning, or as bright as the Castle lights get when the systems cycle into their daytime settings. It's nothing like the light of the early morning sun on Earth, the first waves of heat washing away the bitter chill of the desert night, the whispering of wind as it shifts the sand outside and as Keith gets up to cook breakfast. 

But he's okay with that. It's been years. It doesn't sting anymore. He follows Hunk into the kitchen where Coran already has waffles waiting. He just doesn’t want to forget what Earth looked like ten years ago when he saw it last.

"Is this the last of it?" Hunk asks.

"We have enough for two tomorrow," Coran informs them, referring to the batter they picked up a couple months ago.

"Dibs on both of them," Katie says venomously as she appears at the door. "Give me the fucking syrup." Keith slides the kyfer syrup across the table toward her, eyes down as he slowly pushes his fork into his breakfast. Coran cringes at the language, and Keith knows he’d be commenting on it were she not feeling as groggy and murderous.

"We need to visit Lidipion again to get more of this," Katie mutters, trying her hardest to squeeze the last of the syrup out of the rasping bottle.

"Actually, that's perfect, because who knows when we'll find waffle batter again," Hunk comments.

Keith remains silent as Katie and Hunk move into a debate about food. Matt comes in a quarter of a varga later when Keith finally gets two bites into his stomach and he's working on the third. "Guys!" he chastises. "Don't eat in the kitchen. We have a levitating dinner table now, how are you not hyped to eat on that."

Katie grumbles but slinks out the door. Hunk makes a move to follow before glancing back at Keith, his silent question in his eyes when Keith looks up.

"I'm gonna check the maps," Keith mumbles, shoving his barely eaten food out of the way as he rises and rubs at his face. Hunk nods, walking forward to pat him comfortingly on his shoulder before turning and trailing after Katie.

He stands in the kitchen, alone, for a few more minutes, breathing in deeply through his nose as he rests his palms against his eyes. The castle air is cool, refreshing, he's standing directly under the room's air vent and it's wafting over him freshly filtered. Lance bought floral extract when they went to a market once and doused the filter system in it. The smell lasted for weeks, and when it wore out Lance did it again until the tiny vial was finished. No one ever said anything about it, but everyone liked it. Lance didn't know, though - Keith wonders if Lance even knew they noticed.

He lowers his hands, sighing. He's not going to check the maps - there isn't going to be anything on them. Hunk is probably the only one who still looks at them to find Lance, now, after three years. As for Keith, Keith prefers to call himself somewhat a realist. He prefers to chase truth. Lance is not... he's gone and it's honestly only going to hurt Keith more if he tries to spend another second staring at the unchanging holograms, blank, void of any hope. He makes his way instead toward the castle's AI residency room.

He goes straight to Lance's, waiting for the castle to pick up his thoughts and send him the results he's looking for. After a couple seconds, Lance's figure pops up, reclining on an invisible chair and smirking. Keith's heart sparks. He shrugs off his jacket, tucking it under him as he takes a seat on the cool floor.

"Show me a memory, Lance," he says softly to the unmoving figure, and the room slowly goes dark. The only time he ever speaks Lance’s name aloud. It takes Keith a second to realize there is light in the memory he's visiting, craning his head up to find thousands and thousands of stars. As always, his breath catches in his throat at the sight of Earth's constellations. Then the sound filters in. The roar and splashing of something very, very close by. Texture starts to fill in the gap as sand shifts through Keith's fingers: sand, so familiar, so comforting. He curls his fingers and lets himself breathe, inhaling the damp salt in the air.

"Worth it?" The voice is feminine; Keith glances behind him to see three dark figures. The one with longer hair is holding a small lump.

"Oh, hell yes, Mamá." Lance's breathless voice transforms into a hiss as his mother pinches his ear. It comes from the smaller of the two figures crouched in front of a telescope.

Hunk's voice greets him next. "Thank you so much for doing this. The view is amazing. Have you had a look?"

"You boys are all the stars I need to see," Lance's mother says, her smile audible, and the lump in her arms lets out a noise: a baby's happy gurgle. Keith's heart flips at the memory - Lance's life has been so full of _love_ , bursting to the brim. If Keith had that, he never would have left. Maybe he never would have joined the Garrison; back then he did so in part because it provided living space. But Lance did anyway, knowing he would spend months away from his loving, loving family, knowing it might be years before he saw them again.

And this woman that Keith is seeing _still exists._ This baby is growing up hearing about an uncle he never got to know. This mother is mourning the loss of a smart, ambitious son, much too young for a funeral. This Hunk is currently in another room of the same castle Keith is in, living with the loss of his best friend from childhood.

The scene glitches and all motion stops, a glowing red error message popping up. "Error: incomplete or corrupt data." The computer voice interrupts Keith's thoughts. Another message pops up. "Error: rapid successive memory sequence detected. Proceed or Decline." 

"Proceed," Keith voices, and the scene changes. Every damn time he comes in here, he’s faced with this - Lotor’s ugly mark on his last connection to Lance. He recognizes the Garrison building as his surroundings sharpen, and turns around to see Lance lying on his back in the grass. His face is hidden by Hunk's seated body.

A wind rustles the crisp autumn leaves that surround Keith in shades of blue and black. A half moon crests the horizon. The dry leaves flutter over themselves, skittering as light after light turns off in the Garrison building.

"Hey, I'm pretty sure he isn't doing it to mess with you, Lance," Hunk is saying.

"No," Lance says firmly. His voice is shaky with anger and distress. "He's doing it on purpose. Did you see the way he looked yesterday? When he tripped me in the hall?"

"He was running to class," Hunk points out. "I'm pretty sure he doesn't even remember that."

"Yeah, well, one day I'll be better than him, and then _I'll_ trip _him_ in the hall. And then he'll fall on his butt and stare up at me and admit that he's sorry for being a jerk and that he looks up to me and that he can never compare to me." Lance huffs out a breath. "I just want to go home."

"I know," Hunk sighs. "Remember that night we went to the beach and looked at the stars?"

The scene cuts back to the night from before, but this time Keith hears more splashing: they're playing in the water.

"Lance! Mijo! Get out of the water! You crazy boys, you're going to get carried away in the tide and no one will ever know you were gone." Lance's mom clicks her tongue as she sets down a small bag and begins to pull out silver rods. Keith’s breath catches as he realizes she's setting up the telescope. "Come, see this," she offers.

"What?" Lance calls from further down the beach. Keith can't see him. "In a minute."

"Lance, we should go check it out."

"Five more minutes."

The scene changes back to the Garrison yard. "That's not making me feel less homesick, Hunk," Lance says darkly.

Beach. Lance and Hunk are walking up the shore to where Keith sits when Lance stops dead in his tracks. The ocean crashes against the shore. " _Mamá..._ " he breathes. Then he's sprinting, kicking up sand that sprays Keith head to toe in fine white granules, and that's when Lance yells, lets out a piercing whoop of joy.

He starts laughing as Keith turns around, falling to his knees in front of the telescope and reaching to his mom and squeezing her. "Oh my god, _te amo,_ " Lance chokes out, kissing first his mother and then the baby on each cheek. "Hunk, come see this, oh my goooood..."

Garrison. Lance starts crying, small and light and riddled with hiccup after hiccup.

Error. Incomplete or corrupt data.

Keith backtracks, looks for the most recent possible memory path he can follow. The scene changes to a Garrison classroom. It's empty, dark, definitely past night hours, and there are two figures sitting on desks.

"I went to the beach one night over the summer," Lance is saying softly, fondly. "My mom surprised me with a telescope and we gazed at the stars all night long. And I swear, your eyes remind me of that every time I see them."

"Really?" It's a girl's voice.

"Mhm." Lance leans in and nuzzles her neck, and she sighs against his skin. Keith feels the first pang when Lance and the girl start kissing, her pastel pink hair falling from behind her ear. Lance looks so young here, as if he's fourteen, maybe fifteen.

Keith still hasn't ever kissed anyone.

"When was your first kiss, Lance?" he asks against his better judgement.

The scene shifts and Lance seems to be about 10 years old. He’s working with some blonde girl on a group project - he leans in and just. Just _goes for it._ The memory moves fast - it’s one that Lance has either somewhat forgotten or is embarrassed about. She gasps and pulls back, looks him up and down, and then giggles.

“Lance! We have to work,” she says, turning her face down. It’s flushing red - Keith’s is too. It’s cute, honestly, Lance’s grin, - and Keith feels like a fucking dumbass for feeling jealous of a ten year old girl.

“But we already _finished,_ ” he drawls, leaning over the desk to try to catch her eye again.

“We should color the borders.”

“Viviaaaaan,” he whispers, and she starts giggling and buries her face into her shirt.

There’s no discernable shift, but suddenly Lance is on a swing and he’s hanging upside down, talking to Hunk. “I kissed her and she laughed and I’m officially the coolest boy in the school now,” he declares, and Hunk’s eyes widen as he bounces up and down on the balls of his feet.

“What was it like? How did it feel? Did it taste like cherries?”

“Actually, it didn’t taste like anything,” Lance frowns. “It’s not like she kissed my tongue or anything. Why do people think kissing tastes like cherries?”

Keith has always thought kisses taste like... water? Or nothingness?

“What did she do?”

“She kissed me back and then we promised to marry each other,” Lance grins.

“No, she didn’t,” Hunk frowns at him. “She’s too smart to do that with you.”

“Hey!”

“Error: incomplete or corrupt data.”

“Error: rapid successive memory sequence detected. Proceed or Decline.”

Keith sighs, staring at Lance’s frozen face, hanging upside down from the swing. The tips of his hair are just brushing the barkchips; it’s longer at this age than it was before - before. Before… “Proceed.” He really should stop.

Lance is sixteen and it’s dark. He’s whispering something in the ear of this dark haired girl wearing so much bling. Keith squints one eye at the sight. She doesn’t seem anything like Lance’s type - but what does he know about Lance’s type, anyway. She grins and says something back to him in Spanish, and they keep at it for a little bit. She makes the first move, leaning forward and darting her tongue forward to flick at Lance's lip. Lance's eyebrows jump up and down once in response before he surges forward, hands up and tangling through the girl's hair, and Keith notices for the first time thin downy feathers braided into it at the front right. They're kissing like animals, with so much passion - just watching it makes Keith blush, his stomach twisting with something heated.

The scene shifts to Lance with the same girl, only now they're backing up to a Garrison bed. It takes a minute for it to click for Keith - "Skip," he rasps out quickly, turning his face down into his hand as he tries to control his flush. There's some parts of Lance he doesn't need uncovered. When he glances up again, he's met with a different kind of shock.

Lance's back is against the side wall of some building, outside: he's smirking up at someone, one eyebrow raised, and what hitches Keith's breath in his throat is when he realizes it's a _boy._ He's holding up a cherry, and Lance stretches his neck forward to bite it and pull it out of the boy's hands. He chews, smiling, and spits the pit into a trashcan a meter away. The other boy spits one into it too, and then he nudges his nose forward, bumping it up against Lance's.

"Time to make your childhood dreams come true, huh?" he says quietly, and Lance laughs through his nose.

"Ha-ha," he deadpans, one side of his mouth still quirking up uncontrollably. "Are you gonna do it?"

The boy's pale green eyes drop to Lance’s mouth, his thumb coming up and brushing over Lance's cherry-red lips. Lance closes his eyes, his palms flat against the wall on either side of him. The boy leans forward slowly, pressing his lips to Lance's softly, gently - Lance's chest swells as he slides his hands up and wraps them around the boy's neck. Jealousy and sickness burns in Keith's stomach - Lance has kissed a boy. Lance has kissed a boy before. Lance kisses... kissed boys. Keith wants to hurt something.

It’s one thing to have near-kisses and almost suspect that Lance might like him back. It’s another thing to actually _have it confirmed_ like this, with Lance kissing this fucking kid Keith has never seen before in his life. To have something concrete. He remembers how sure he was on kissing Lance after they beat Lotor, three years ago - but, god, fucking….

“What sexuality do you identify as, Lance?” he asks, and the error message pops up. _Error: no vocal input detected._ Keith blinks. _Error: rapid successive memory sequence detected. Proceed or Decline._ “Proceed,” he says out loud, curiosity leaving him open like a cave, hungry for knowledge. Has Lance never spoken about it out loud? Was he that closeted?

Lance is maybe fourteen, sitting in the back of a Garrison classroom, learning about thermokinetics. He’s not paying attention at all, though - he’s scribbling absently in the margins of his open notebook and staring at the back of some other kid. It’s a nice back. The kid turns and whispers something to his friend next to him, and Lance’s eyes trail the jawline.

The memories skip forward to Lance bent over a laptop at the Garrison with Hunk fast asleep in the bunk under his. He’s huddled up in blankets, one hand up against the back of the screen, ready to slap it close at a moment’s notice. He’s scrolling through some webpage defining bisexuality - his face is troubled, focused, grim. Keith’s heart softens at the picture and he plays with the edge of Lance’s blankets a bit before the memory changes.

Lance is at a wedding, dressed up in a _beautiful_ suit and tie - it hits Keith suddenly like a truck, and apparently Lance feels the same because some boy comes up and holds out his hand, introducing himself as a nephew from the girl’s side. Lance chokes on his champagne and starts coughing, thumping his chest and setting his glass down on a small table, the golden drink splashing onto the silky white tablecloth.

“Lance,” he rasps, holding out his hand. “My brother’s getting married.” The boy laughs as Lance shakes his hand and mutters, “What a terrible first impression.”

“It’s fine,” the boy laughs, and Lance’s eyes widen, which Keith really doesn’t understand because he’s not _that_ great. His hair is tousled and swept to the side carelessly - Keith is pretty sure the rugged look suits _him_ better than _this_ kid. He has green eyes, which, _again with the green eyes._ Maybe Lance _does_ have a type. Keith frowns. His lips are thin though, and his eyebrows are too far apart, and his ears are kinda big - wide chin, which really is kind of…

“Lance, you can do so much better,” he mutters, watching as Lance squeaks out something in a voice several octaves higher and rushes off to the bathroom.

The memory changes, maybe in response to Keith’s words, which he now regrets because Lance looks just _really nice_ in a suit and Keith doesn’t want that image to go away. The next scene is - _holy shit._

Lance looks the same age he was when Keith first saw him coming through that door, wagging his finger and declaring how he was going to be the one saving Shiro. He’s in an abandoned classroom - _again,_ and his eyes keep darting nervously to the door. “I don’t know,” he’s saying. “I just don’t want anyone to see us and, like…”

The boy he’s with shushes him, chuckling slightly. “Dude, I promise no one is going to see you, c’mon.” Lance looks up at him, and Keith can literally fucking _see_ the longing in his eyes. They step a little ways into the moonlight and Keith knows why.

He’s a model, he’s an _actual model._ His eyes are deep blue and his hair is jet black, thick eyebrows and soft mouth, muscles wrapped around his shoulders and Adam’s apple bobbing up and down over his throat. Keith knows immediately he’s the boy that at least forty people are crushing on at any one given moment, and he’s not entirely sure which one he’s more jealous of - he swipes his hand through the air to dispel the memory, frustrated at himself. Why did he think this was a good idea? The only thing he can feel is his own blush, burning up his skin with the heat of a thousand stars.

He forms the question in his mind. Considers it. Wonders. Wants to know. Is unsure about it. Should he ask? He glances up at Lance, sitting on the invisible chair, smirking with that bewitching smile. To ask or not to ask. Does he want to know? Is he prepared for the answer he may get, whichever one it is?

The truth is, he isn’t: so he asks. “Would you ever kiss me, Lance?” he says quietly, because this is what he’s been wanting to know the answer to since Blueshift, and Lance’s image flickers for a moment, suddenly reappearing so he’s kneeling in front of Keith, wearing the same kind of face Keith has seen in the memories he just viewed. His heart flips in his chest. He _suspected_ an answer for a long time, but he’s about to have it confirmed...

“Hell yeah, Keith.” There’s a jump before Keith’s name - the AI is cycling through two different sentences to put Lance’s words together. Keith’s throat tightens and his pulse races. He swallows hard, unable to meet Lance’s piercing blue eyes.

“Do it, maybe?” And it’s stupid - it’s so stupid that he’s literally asking a _robot_ to kiss him because _this is how unhealthily he’s coping with his grief._ He doesn’t even know why he wants Lance to, seeing as he’s going to feel nothing.

Lance’s eyes widen ever so imperceptibly and he leans forward slowly, hand drifting up until it's almost touching the back of Keith's neck. Random memories whir around the room in flashes of color as he draws closer, images of Keith doing this or that - just small tidbits of everyday life as part of Voltron. For some reason, Keith doesn't wonder at why he can feel the heat of Lance's breath.

It's when Lance is just millimeters away and his hand weaves into Keith's hair that Keith's defenses suddenly fly up. But then it's too late. Lance closes his eyes all the way and pushes their mouths together, the warm press of his lips soft and persistent against Keith's own. It's firm, cautious - as first kisses should be, quiet, a little distanced. Keith does nothing for a second.

Then he throws Lance off and jumps up, blood flying to his face as his neck prickles with the absence of Lance's hand. Lance is sitting on the floor, staring up at him. "Keith?" he asks, and it's the voice from that one day Keith came out of the pod after their first Heptavitrine mission - it's too much, too much, and he shakes his head, backing up. He trips over his own feet and turns to sprint out of the room, away from the AI, away from Lance and his smiles and his closeted bisexuality, away from the feeling of Lance's lips on his own. Because it shouldn't have been there. He shouldn't have felt it. He shouldn't have been able to feel Lance's skin, his touch, his breath, his kiss. He barrels into the dining room, breaths heaving and face red from both the sprint and from what he just did. Everyone glances up, the shards of broken conversation still hanging in the air.

"The AI," he says, gasping for breath. "Hunk. The AI. Why. Why can I... touch people... in the AI?" He feels like a teenager again.

Confusion shimmers over Hunk's face for a split second before it reveals recognition. "Oh, yeah," he responds. "Zialis and I were messing with it a few weeks ago, trying to figure out how to fix the corrupted system so we would have more than what amounts to just a hyper-realistic tape recorder. I managed to wire some of the receptors together to give the illusion of touch to our avatars, nothing substantial. Is there a problem?"

"I thought you were looking at maps," Matt says. Keith glares at him, earning an eyebrow raise in response.

"No," he wheezes. "No problem." The problem is that his voice is 2 octaves higher than it should be, that's the problem. He walks forward stiffly and sits down at the head of the table, catching his breath and staring straight ahead at the center. He's thoroughly shaken, still reliving the moment in his brain. He closes his eyes, trying to clear his head. "Where.... where do we need to be today?"

"We're visiting Klaiyon," Hunk informs him, hopefully sensing that Keith is nowhere near interested in talking about what just happened. "Coran?"

"Well, we're stopping by a local market first, just to replenish our food supplies," Coran says from at the other end of the table, twirling his mustache. "In case you’ve forgotten, the Hher people focus heavily on trade and business, so their markets are bursting with goods from all over the universe. They run all of their satellites as swap moons, except for one they use as a prison. Then we're due at Klaiyon for dinner, today in Castle time, so Hher is more of just a small pit stop this round." Pit stop. Keith hears new English phrases from Coran every day. He gazes straight ahead at the center of the table, still, forcing his mind to work on the task at hand instead of driving itself back to Lance in the AI chamber. He thinks he remembers Hher. It’s a common stop for them, if he’s thinking of the right planet.

"I'm not sure we want to fix the AI chamber," Keith mutters. Wow. Wow. Nice forcing. He didn’t mean to say that.

"Why not?" Katie asks, frowning. "We can't keep storing our memories in there every night, knowing that whatever next generation is going to come after us is gonna have to sit there and sort through our entire lives to find one answer."

"I know," Keith strains. "It's just... I just think..." he's not a good liar, he's not a good liar, he's not a good liar... "Maybe we should just leave it, you know? Like, maybe it's not a good idea to have literal copies of ourselves be fully sentient and ready for us to converse with, all the time. It makes you blur the lines of reality and we could just let the next people deal with it."

"This is about Lance," Nyma speaks up for the first time that day. Keith frowns and glares in the general direction of his Red Paladin, refusing to meet her eyes because he knows she's going to be able to see clear through him. He doesn't recall seeing her in the kitchen this morning, but she has waffles, meaning she's probably eating his, which really pisses him off. He wasn't going to eat them either way - but that didn't mean _she_ had permission. Maybe Zialis, or Commander Holt, but _definitely_ not her.

This is what he gets for taking Quasar's most belligerent rebel. He hates Matt. Even Rolo would have done. At least Rolo was hot. But maybe that's a good thing, because the last time a hot boy was on Voltron he died and Keith was stuck kissing his AI avatar. He hates himself. He hates Lance. He hates _everyone_ on this table. Hunk's wearing a clear look that says he's going to ask Keith about it later - and Keith really wishes he _wouldn't._ Also, Rolo’s dead too now anyway, so Keith hates him too.

"It's not about _him,_ " he bites back, but it's transparent so he changes the topic. "Tell me about Klaiyon."

"They're the ones who were mining their planet out for the Galra when we freed them," Katie recalls. "Post-Lotor." The nice way of saying Lance didn't get to see it. Keith remembers now - they were stuck in a cave in for three vargas that day. He rubs his hand over his face. It's a beautiful planet. Lance would probably have digged it. The surface is covered in spiraling structures of crystal and precious minerals, interspersed with mines that all connect to each other under the planet's surface. Breathtaking towers of bismuth. It was one of the first few missions with Nyma, and he still didn't fully trust her back then. Not that he does now, but at least now he has confidence in her ability to follow his orders.

 

“Okay,” he mutters. “Okay, cool.”

“Are you okay, Keith?” Commander Holt asks him.

Keith wants to laugh. “I’m n-” he cuts himself off, rubbing the empty space on his pinky finger - even after three years, he still has the habit. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

### you're all that and i'm - iv

Keith separates from the group as usual when they stop at Hher. He dons his alternate get-up that he uses when he's not interested in being the leader of Voltron, finds a local bar or tavern or something, takes the table closest to the far corner. It's not the first time. He's made a habit of it - dissociating from everyone else and letting himself roam where people will steer clear of him. When he goes to pick up his drink, he notices the farthest table has since been vacated, so he heads over there instead. The family seated next to him has two small children - they take one look at Keith and move to the table he just left.

It doesn't surprise or hurt him anymore. The first diplomatic mission he had Post-Lotor was disastrous. People look up to the helmet, the armor, the Lion. The battle scars? No. No, that scares people away. Because people want to see the glory of war, not the reality, and Keith is too harsh a reminder.

So now he wears the metal eyepatch Hunk designed for him and hides everything below his remaining eye with a thin dark-red cloth, ear to ear across the bridge of his nose. The looks he gets in public are a lot better than the startled yelping, the pale-faced spluttering, the fearful crying he was faced with before.

He looks like a villain - a lone man sitting in the corner of the bar with his hood pulled up and his muscled body swathed in red and black. So - it doesn't surprise or hurt him anymore when people edge away from him, when he catches the nervous whispers and sidelong glances. It doesn't help that whenever he's at these taverns, no one has ever seen him before, and no one probably will see him again - he's never been back to the same place twice and he knows he's returning to Earth once they make it through all the parties and peace accords and treaties and alignments. He's decided. He'll go back for Lance, at least - Lance wanted to go back, and if Keith's the next best thing, like hell he's not gonna make the most of that.

Every day. Every goddamn day he's thinking of Lance.

And he can still barely speak the name aloud.

It's a planet of green skinned aliens - Keith rarely sees green skinned aliens, but he knows this one. He was right, they've been to this planet several times before. Hher is a good place, rather Earth-like in its plant growth, a little more green than blue from space but that's fine. Heavier gravity here, and it makes Keith feel like he weighs fifty extra pounds. The local populations are friendly and forthcoming to the rest of team Voltron - at least, the ones who don't have fucked up faces.

And he can still barely speak the name aloud. So someone enters the bar - Keith keeps track of the activity around him, he's constantly watching, he notices the outsider right away - not with green skin, not with blue skin like some of the seadwellers here, but with a healthy brown-tan hue and an undercut, bright but pale blue squares angling over the skin of his neck and the sides and back of his head, and Keith shocks himself when the name pours loud and panicked out of his mouth when the man sits down. His back to Keith. Doesn't respond to Keith's call, but people near Keith trail their eyes on him warily. His voice is a rough one. He's an imposing figure. A group of friends - four adolescents - rise and move away from him.

Keith finds the strength to stand, somehow. His fingers are shaking, because this - there's no way this man can possibly be - the ground is being pulled out from under him, all the colors are swirling and he's getting tunnel vision, the buzz and chatter and clanking around him dimming. Someone else enters - someone else with tan skin, lighter than the first man. His hair is undercut but long, pulled into a tail behind him, telltale white streak highlighting the very top.

Keith raises his eye to the sky above him, trying to summon enough courage to make his way over there. The starlight is bright - this system has two suns, but the sky is a saturated azure blue, too cheerful for the implosion of Keith's heart. He steps forward robotically. The heavily built man with the white hair exchanges a few words with the employee behind the counter, who then beckons him around and the two disappear into the back. The other man stays seated, chatting up some Hher girl with braided hair pulled up at the top that cascades down her back.

Keith comes up to his right side, opposite the girl. "Lance?" he repeats, and still the guy doesn't budge - but the alien girl's eyes flicker toward him. Keith's considering leaving it and going back to the Castle, but he _has_ to know, _has_ to see this man's face. "Lance," he says again, more urgently, almost pleading.

"I think someone's trying to get your attention," the girl whispers to him, and he turns against their flowing conversation, his tongue poised mid-speech. The sight of his features pierces deep into Keith's chest - the angle of his nose, the slope of his jaw, the deepest blue eyes Keith has ever known -

"Can... I help you?" Lance asks. The dipping-sliding of his naturally playful voice cuts hot into Keith's heart. The familiarity of it. He never expected to hear that voice outside of the broken AI again.

"Lance," Keith whispers hoarsely, stupidly - he's dumbfounded and he's lost all ability to form any kind of coherent sentence.

Because Lance was _gone._ He was _dead._ they scoured the universe for him and found nothing. Lotor himself said it - Lance was erased from reality. Allura's AI backed up the fact; Lotor erased Lance from reality. No semblance of him existed anymore. Not even in any other realities. It was so permanent, so how can - how can this be real - how can Keith's eyes be giving him this information - how can Keith be staring into these eyes he's only been able to see in computers and dreams for years?

Three years. That's about how long it’s been since they beat Lotor, based on the Castle’s scans for their ages. They've made it through a lot of the freed planets by now, cleansing out the remnants of Galra rule, forming and growing the Universal Coalition. Establishing universal unilateral communication thanks to Zialis and the Holts. They've stopped by Hher billions of times. Keith has walked this street - never sat at this particular tavern, but been here - billions of times.

How has it taken so long - "um, hello? Are you listening to me?"

Keith blinks out of his spiraling confusion, brings one gloved hand up to Lance's cheek. "Lance, oh my god... where have you been..." moisture thickens in his eye from how _overwhelmed_ he is when -

"No, look, I'm sorry, I just said - I don't think you have the right person. I'm not Lance, sorry."

What?

Keith skims every surface of Lance's face - the same nose, pointed and long, the same chin, the same lips, the same wide eyes, although they're more tired now, even the same warmly enticing skin color. There's a stubble along his narrow jaw. Lance has years on him - from living on a planet while the rest of them travelled through space?

But it is Lance. Without a doubt. "What the hell are you talking about?" Keith mutters weakly as Lance pulls at Keith's wrist to remove his hand from his cheek. "We've been falling apart at the Castle after you disappeared. We've been going crazy - I had to take _Nyma_ for Red, where the fuck have you _been_ -"

"Dude!" Lance leans away a little. "I have no idea what you're talking about, or who you are. Feel free to help yourself to a drink, but please, you've got the wrong guy."

It crashes into Keith's chest as Lance starts to turn away - _n o._ His hand shoots out to stop Lance from turning. "That's not fucking funny, Lance!" he says, tears rolling down his cheek now, because - what the hell - what's _wrong_ with him - why doesn't he _remember_.

"Ah, man," Lance mutters, awkwardly raising up a hand in a hesitantly placating gesture. "Don't, uh... don't cry." Keith's face twists painfully as his heart crumples in on itself at the complete _lack of recognition in Lance's face._

"Hey, Blue!" The man behind the counter calls, poking his head out of the back room. "Someone tells me today is supposed to be-"

"Not now, Luz," Lance calls back. ...Blue? "I'm kind of, uh, busy, give me a minute."

The green-skinned Hher man - Luz - disappears into the back again. Keith stares at the empty doorway, eyebrow drawn up in confusion and distress.

"I... Shiro's back there?" he asks, hesitant - because really, two humans, one is Lance despite the fact that he apparently thinks it's a good time to fuck with Keith, and the other has a white streak in his hair and an undercut - who the fuck else?

He's not actually expecting Lance to confirm his fearful suspicion; he's honestly at least half convinced this is another shitty nightmare. So when Lance raises an eyebrow and says cautiously, "you know Shiro?" it plows straight through Keith's chest and steals all his air and he has to - _needs_ to - sit down. Collapse into the stool behind him. Lean heavily over the counter, everything blurring into a mass of tears because Lance is alive, Shiro is alive, but Lance... doesn't remember...

Lance has dementia. He forgot. He totally forgot - is this the culmination of years of that??

And his brain just - just shuts down.

"What's your name?" Lance is asking him. The girl he was talking to is sliding a glass of water over to him.

"Keith," he replies numbly, his voice cracking between the letters, staring at the water but not even considering the notion of drinking it.

It's vibrating slightly from all the chatter around them, tiny rings waving in and out. Concentric. Keith feels like he's drowning in it. "Okay, cool, uh, I haven't seen you before. You're not from around here, then. Are you a traveler?"

"Sure."

"Who's Lance? How do you know him?"

"He's _you,_ Keith sobs out, and Lance raises his palms in hesitant defense again. " _You're_ Lance, damn it! It's me! I'm your teammate, your rival, your - your friend-"

"Hey, Keith," Lance says gently. "I'm sorry. Clearly this Lance guy has you... really upset, and I'm - I'm sorry, I really don't know what to do about that." Lance focuses on something behind Keith. "Shiro," he acknowledges.

Keith turns. Shiro's back from whatever he was doing in the back with Luz, waving at Lance with a polite, casual smile - like they do this every day.

"You know this guy?" Lance gestures toward Keith with his chin, and Keith waits as Shiro's eyes rove over Keith's face. "Says his name's Keith. He mentioned you."

"Yeah," Shiro says - still very casual, though, revisiting his smile and aiming it back at Lance. "Met him a long time ago. Why don't we head back?"

"We just got here," the Hher girl says. Keith blinks - everything else in his body has stopped moving.

Shiro nods. "I know. But we have a guest."

Lance squints. "You're bringing this guy home?"

Keith wants to frown, but like he said, pretty much everything in his body has stopped moving. "Yeah, I'm sure he and I have a few things to talk about. Haven't seen you in a couple years, Keith."

"A couple," Keith repeats - only his voice doesn't actually come out. Shiro frowns at the floor a second - but not guilty, more like thoughtful.

"He said he was looking for a guy named Lance. Do you know him?" the girl asks. Shiro looks up then, fixing Keith with a very... careful look. What does it mean?

"No," he says quietly - and everything unfreezes.

Keith shoots to his feet, glare lowering harshly down onto his features, the stool tipping over. "What the hell are you talking about-"

He's interrupted by Luz yelling from another end of the counter. " _Keep it down_ ," the rough hewn voice cuts in, and Keith winces. Tears still streaming down his face as he furiously wipes them away. "Blue, take your friend and go, I can't have you making such a ruckus. B! Pick that up." Keith stares as a maid scurries to push the stool back right side up.

"Alright, uh, let's go. We'll come back, Ofella," Lance promises to the girl, who frowns but nods. She offers Keith a smile and a hand as the two get up to leave, but he just stares at it, uncomprehending.

"Come with us, Keith," Shiro murmurs in his ear as he passes him. Keith shivers at the familiarity of the voice - he glances up, and Shiro's already walking away. Does he follow?

Of fucking course he does. He shoots a nasty glare at a little girl who won't stop _staring_ at him until she gasps and turns her head away, hiding behind her hair, scrunching herself up smaller.

The Hher are like turtles, almost.

Lance glances back at Shiro once, and it reveals the other side of his face that Keith hasn't seen yet - the grisly deformation there makes him almost trip. Twin jagged scars split apart the left side of his skull, white and thick, obviously fully healed. Keith's stomach lurches as he stares.

What did that to him?? The light blue tattoos carefully avoid the area.

"Keith," Shiro calls back, and Keith mentally kicks himself back into motion.

His core churns as he watches Lance laugh, his eyes sparkling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *alex the lion voice* SURPRISE


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fair warning im a bad writer a lot of this made me cringe

### sunlight filters through ash to illuminate bloodied petals - vii

Apparently Lance lives in a giant mansion with sprawling courtyards and many many bedrooms and what looks like several acres of land behind it. It's white and embellished with black and blue paint. The rooms they walk through are all airy and open, curtains fluttering in the wind that blows through from the hundreds of open doors and windows and courtyards, couches and chairs and stools, musical instruments - it's luxurious and kind of too much to comprehend, even without all the people bustling about. Hundreds of different species, all busy and looking like they have someplace to be, dressed in every kind of fashion. Keith recognizes no one.

Shiro beckons him in a different direction than the one Lance keeps walking in, and Keith hesitantly follows. He does _not_ want to lose track of Lance, but he hasn't seen Shiro in so long either...

"Wait here, I'll be back in a moment," Shiro says, pushing through a glass door to a grand office-type room that reminds Keith of the Blueshift control room. He leaves Keith and heads off deeper into the mansion - Keith watches all the people outside the quietness of the room he's in before turning to look around him.

The desk is long and made of several tables - a chair with wheels stands tucked into one edge of the metal that wraps around two sides of the room. Everything is immaculate as Shiro always is - neat stacks of paper, colored circles of paper stuck up on the wall, photos... Keith steps closer to the photos. Again, no one Keith recognizes. Who are these people?? What the hell has Shiro been doing? Why didn't he... why didn't he contact Keith all these years?

He notices Lance in one of the frames - it's older, because Lance looks less... well, less buff. There are a bunch of notes scribbled on blue paper and stuck up next to it.

_Lance has picked piloting back up astoundingly fast. He always was a natural. He's started traveling, sometimes for work, sometimes for fun. He says he likes the constellations here._

_I don't think he realizes, but there's an image reminiscent of Orion slightly vertically stretched on this planet, and something close to the Big Dipper but in the opposite direction. They're the brightest constellations. Lance subconsciously misses Earth -_

_\- it gives me hope the real Lance is still in there._

_Lance came back with tattoos. I feel like a parent._

The notes are stuck on top of one another - Keith pulls off the ones he's already read to reveal whatever's underneath.

_Lance has lost his identity, either from the fall or from the battle itself. The scars on his head are taking a long time to heal. I suspect magic, perhaps Haggar._

_I will not tell Lance about my past or his. He is seamlessly growing into the life here. He deserves to be happy. I took him for a flight the other day and he didn't recognize any of the basic controls_

_I don't think he can return to Voltron. I don't think he can be a pilot anymore._ That one hits Keith hard.

 _"What? No, I'm a pilot."_ There was pride in that voice when Keith remembered it. Annoyance, but also pride. Lance _loves_ flying. Is this guy even Lance?

_It's heartbreaking to watch Lance listen to stories about the legendary Voltron Paladins with such rapt attention. If only he knew._

And beneath those:

_I went to go see the girl - her name is Ofella. She's taking care of this boy in the room her wife usually takes, but Akka is away for military duty._

_He looks disturbingly like Lance. That, and the armor... Ofella doesn't know._

_Lance fell from the sky in a mess. Ofella's feat is monumental - as is Lance's will to live._

_Lance doesn't have any memory of Voltron, Earth, or life before he fell from the sky. He doesn't recognize any special meaning in the Paladin armor._

_The armor is ruined beyond repair. I've locked it away with mine for now._

_He looks like he's been through a nasty battle. I can only hope Keith and the others are okay._

_I wonder if this is really Lance, but no one else has those eyes. They're unique. We've been calling him Blue, I think it's going to end up sticking._

_I'm putting his book away for now - if there really is anything written in it, it's certainly not with any kind of invisible ink I know how to read._

_He doesn't recognize the book even though it was in the pocket inside his armor when we found him. But it might hold information._

Keith drops his arm, eye swimming and no longer able to focus on the fine scrawl of Shiro's handwriting.

The door clicks open behind him - he turns to see Shiro, dressed in lighter clothes. A shirt, belts over his torso, wrist braces up his arm, what look like trousers and boots beneath that. Keith rakes him in. His face is tired, so much older - he’s, what, thirty five now? Or older, considering he’s been on a planet while they’ve been in space.

He wants to take Lance back to the Castle. Now. Wants to know how old he is now, wants to know what the _fuck_ he’s been doing for three years. 

“Where the hell have you been,” Keith says, only it comes out so, so, so tired. He’s _done_ with the universe’s surprises.

Shiro lets out a long quiet sigh. He reaches his hand out to the chair and turns it at the wrist - the chair splits into two and melts into smaller ones. Shiro takes his seat in one and gestures to the other one. “Would you like to take a seat?”

“I’m not here for a bank appointment,” Keith fires back.

Shiro looks honestly surprised for a moment, and then he laughs. “I forgot… that banks existed. Man, wonder what they’re doing with my shit back home…”

Keith crosses his arms. “I’m not here for a casual conversation, either.”

Shiro nods. “I know. You’re here for a few hours before you leave to Klaiyon for dinner.”

Keith narrows his eye. “You know this because…?”

Shiro’s eyes travel downward to Keith’s shoes as he crosses his arms, leaning back into his chair. “What I do here is organize rebel operations in this quadrant. There are twenty four bases throughout the quadrant, and I run this one. We keep track of you guys, aid you where we can. We call ourselves the Kkom alliance.”

Keith frowns. He knew there was rebel activity still going on throughout the universe, knew there were more alliances than just Quasar. The Neiyic system alone was involved with six other rebel alliances. “So why didn’t you ever think it was important to, I don’t know, contact us, let us know you were alive. Allura never wanted to be the Black Paladin. Neither did I.”

“Neither did I,” Shiro says softly, raising his eyebrows all matter-of-fact. “I just wanted to go home.”

Keith laughs, bitter, looking around him. “So this is home?”

Shiro looks away at that. “No, it’s not. I’m just not fit for space travel anymore.” Keith’s stomach twinges with concern at that.

“What do you mean?”

Shiro’s head tips back, like he can’t stand looking at one place for more than a sentence at a time. “My body’s weak. I can’t handle the rise in white blood cells - it doesn’t sound like it should be a problem, sounds like it should _help,_ actually-” he breaks off into a laugh. “But I can’t handle it. I’ve been feeling the effects of it even here - Luz keeps medicine for me, I go in to see him every day. I’m a dying man, Keith.”

Keith’s taken aback at all this sudden information. It’s…. an unbearably depressing thought. Shiro is grounded. Here. Forever.

“At this point, I’m only still living so I can keep an eye on Lance. And so I can keep an eye on you and Voltron through the Black Lion.” The words spark something strange in Keith’s chest - something almost nostalgic, something warmer. Shiro’s been watching over them… in a way. “I’m… Allura…”

Keith winces at the brokenness in Shiro’s voice, but he’s also so _fed up_ \- he rolls his eyes over to the right side wall. “What’s up with Lance, anyway,” Keith scowls, running through the notes around the photo in his mind.

Shiro’s quiet for another heartbeat, two. “He fell out of the sky. Just, randomly. Landed up on this hill - I still don’t understand how his body could have possibly withstood the fall. Ofella’s daughter found him. Ofella nursed him back to health. But he… doesn’t remember anything. At all. It’s like his identity was just - erased.”

It all clicks into place, suddenly. Keith remembers Lotor’s words, spoken through tears and bloody lips: _he's been eradicated from reality itself._ And how Coran thought there was a possibility his spell didn't follow through, after having been weakened from fighting for so many hours.

… So Coran was right.

But somehow, this is fucking _worse._

Keith draws in a shaky breath, wanting to run a hand through his hair but not wanting to do it in front of Shiro. “You grew half your hair out,” he says instead, as a stupid way to not deal with Lance.

Shir nods. “I did.” Keith notices his eyes on him, travelling over first the small corner of his face that’s visible, then the mask, then the dark scarlet cloth over his mouth, and down further over his scarf that loops over his head. He’s very… hidden, and he can feel Shiro wanting to comment on it.

“I’m taking Lance back with me to the Castle,” Keith decides.

Shiro shakes his head. “You can’t, Keith. It’s taken him a lot of difficulty to adjust to life over here after having no memories. He’s emotionally scarred and seeing him happy is - you can’t take him back into war, Keith.”

Keith glares at Shiro. “You don’t have a right to make decisions for us anymore. You left. You could have contacted us.”

“I did. Through Black.”

“That doesn’t fucking count-”

“I’m proud of you, Keith.”

Keith blows out a heavy sigh and throws his arms up, turning so he’s not facing Shiro anymore. “I’m taking him.”

“He has friends and family here, Keith.”

“His family is in Cuba, waiting for him to come the fuck home.”

“Don’t tear him away from his entire life!”

Keith glares back over his shoulder at Shiro. He’s standing now, taller than Keith, but Keith doesn’t fucking _care._

But he… he does have a point. And as much as Keith _wants_ to bring Lance back to the ship and regenerate his memories with the AI, he knows Lance… doesn’t deserve that. He found an easy escape from all the trauma the rest of them are tangled in. And Keith… Keith wants that for him. Wants him to be happy.

… _At least he’s alive._

Lance is alive.

“I’m saying this now, because I know that if you asked, he’d come with you,” Shiro says in a gentler tone. “He’s in love with Voltron and with the Paladins. He’s fascinated by you guys - and if the Black Paladin showed up at his doorstep, offering to take him up into the Castle of Lions, he would come with you in a heartbeat. Not even Eluxis would be able to change his mind.”

Keith frowns against the crumbling core of his heart. “Who’s Eluxis?”

Shiro shrugs almost imperceptibly. “His boyfriend. Lance is in love with him, would probably do anything he asked.” Sadness, thick and suffocating, descends over Keith. He’s not exactly… surprised. But he feels like his grief over Lance has just been revived, pulled out from the recesses of time and left to sit in his mind, fresh, sharp, fucking cold as all hell.

Nothing is the same anymore. “Where is Lance?” Keith asks.

“At home, probably, or visiting Ofella.”

“They don’t live here?”

Shiro laughs. “No, only I live here. It’s an open place for interplanetary travellers to rest and fuel up and anything else they need - like I said, it’s our rebel base.”

“Damn nice base,” Keith mutters. “Quasar wasn’t like that.”

Shiro nods. “Ah, right. The one you were working with.” He seems pensive. “Neither was the Blade of Marmora base.”

Keith nods. He can’t forget that place - not after how much the trials affected him. Even after so many years. “How old are you now?” he asks.

Shiro shrugs. “I’m guessing I’m in my forties. I’m not actually sure.”

“Come up to the Castle so we can figure it out.”

Shiro shakes his head. “I can’t…”

“Why not?” Keith demands.

“I… I don’t want to.”

Keith can’t believe what he’s hearing. “None of us _want_ to.”

“I’m tired, Keith. I’m doing my best where I can. I’m looking after Lance. I’m helping the resistance. But I can’t go back there. I’m okay where I am.”

Keith’s - ... Keith’s tired.

Shiro smiles at him, sad, exhausted. He sees it now - the eyes of a man who’s lost all hope, lost all his dreams and given up. A man who’s only living because he can’t stand to leave a friend behind.

“Fine.”

### takeout is better when you're broke and there are leftovers in the fridge - x

Keith doesn’t go back to the Castle. He runs into Lance instead while he’s leaving, and it stops him in his tracks immediately.

It takes the other man a second to register him. “Oh, uh, Keith. I was wondering where you…. Everything okay?”

It takes everything in Keith not to crumple at the way Lance flinches when Keith steps forward. He schools his emotions, trying to reel them back in, trying to remind himself this is not the same Lance.

But then Lance is asking him, “Do you want to maybe sit down, eat something with me?” all cautious-like, and Keith finds himself nodding before he fully processes the question.

“Sure,” he says, his voice rough and thick. Lance looks vaguely uncomfortable but he motions with his head in the direction of the main hallway. Keith follows him down to a large courtyard sprinkled with tables and chairs, people chattering and eating. There’s a small area in the middle with a roof that houses a kitchen. Lance knows what he’s doing - enters and heads straight to a machine that dispenses golden-white liquid, clear. Grabs something that looks like bread from a counter, but… redder, and rounder. Keith frowns and picks one up himself, following Lance back out as he moves to sit down at a table with two chairs.

Lance watches him cautiously as he sips his drink from a square flask. Keith’s not eating, just holding the red round thing, because he doesn’t exactly feel like revealing his scarred face. That is, until Lance says, “That’s food, not a stress ball,” and Keith realizes he’s creating indents into the crusted surface.

“I need a stress ball,” he mutters, forcefully relaxing his fingers. Stress balls. What a weird object to be universally constant.

Lance laughs, and Keith has to take a moment to remember this is real, he’s here, talking to Lance-but-not-Lance, listening to his actual laugh _now_ , in _real time_. Genuine. Real. “You gonna eat that, or…?”

Keith hesitates. “I don’t think so.”

Lance snorts, sipping more of his drink. “Nope, wrong answer.” He leans back. “You’re one scary-looking dude, man, I’m sorry. Tell me about this guy Lance.”

Keith doesn’t know what to say. “He was a friend of mine from a long… long time ago.”

“Like Shiro?”

“Yeah. Well, he was a friend of Shiro’s too.”

Lance frowns, smiling a little but eyebrows furrowed in. “Shiro’s never mentioned him.”

Keith inhales and exhales. “No, I’d imagine not.” He considers his red bread sphere thoughtfully. “He was a good person. Very energetic, friendly, always flirting with people… missed his home planet more than any of us.”

“Any of us?”

“Yeah. Me and Lance and Shiro and - others.”

“Others?” Lance is half done with his drink.

“Other friends. We all miss him.”

Lance sets it down, eyes sad and concerned as they study what’s visible of Keith’s face. “What happened to him?”

Keith frowns. This is painful to talk about. He’s never actually answered this question directly before, but Lance has a way of drawing it out of him. “We were… fighting against the Galra. He disappeared. We spent years looking for him - he hasn’t turned up.”

“Damn, I’m… I’m sorry.” Keith’s frown deepens. It’s overly painful, more than it should be, listening to Lance apologize for what happened to himself.

“Keith, what are you doing, we have to go, you know.” Keith looks up at the voice to see that Katie has just entered the courtyard. She’s talking with her face pointed into a screen on her arm, closing it out - Keith recognizes it as a map of the surrounding area. She tracked his radio, maybe. Nice. Great. “Do you know how long it took me to get here? Let’s go.” Then she looks up.

Straight into Lance’s awestruck face, and all the color drains from her face. “Are you - you’re the - the Green Pa - oh my god - Vol - you - you know her - holy shit-” Lance cuts off his stuttering with a hand to his mouth, cheeks and ears flushing as Keith watches with an aching chest.

“Lance??” spills out of Katie’s mouth, and Keith’s eye flutters closed. “... _Lance???_ ”

Lance lets out a hollow laugh. “I’m not - Keith?”

Keith opens his eye.

“You’re - you and Shiro - the friends you were talking about are the _Paladins of Voltron?_ ”

Keith looks to Katie instead. “Lotor erased his identity,” he says. Her eyes shimmer with tears as she steps forward, movements dragging.

“But… I…”

“Lotor?”

“The Galra prince,” Keith clarifies to Lance.

“No, I know that,” Lance says. He’s breathless. “But you-” he looks back at Katie. “You’re - the Green Paladin…”

She nods, tears falling. “Yes, Lance, you daft idiot, I’m the Green Paladin. Keith is the Black Paladin. You’re the-”

“Katie,” Keith says harshly, cutting her off before she continues. Lance flinches. “Lotor erased his identity.”

He can see Katie putting it together in her head. “He… doesn’t know who we are?”

“Wait - obviously I know who you are-” Still breathless.

Katie deflates. “That’s… not what I meant.” She looks at Keith helplessly, who just shakes his head in warning. But he can see the gears turning. “The AI.”

“Katie, no...”

“ _The AI._ ” she turns to Lance, all determination and ferocity. “Come with us to the Castle of Lions.”

“Holy shit, hell yes,” Lance gasps.

“ _No,_ ” Keith growls, slamming his hand down on the table and standing. Lance jumps. The people around them jump. Everything is quiet. “Katie, I need to talk to you.” He grabs her arm and is about to drag her off to the side-

“Alright, I’m coming,” she grumbles, wrenching it out of his grip and following after him. He huffs a breath through his nose.

They head inside, standing near a window, watching Lance, who’s watching them back - cheeks flushed, sipping his drink. “Lance doesn’t remember his own name. Shiro’s here too - I talked to him. And Lance has his own life - he goes by Blue, he’s dating some boy named Alexis or something - we can’t take him back.”

“Keith,” she says incredulously. “Are you stupid? We could get Lance _back._ What, you want us to just leave him here? After three years of thinking he was dead? We can transfer the AI memories-”

“ _Don’t you get it?_ ” Keith stresses. “This is hell, Pidge! Lance missed Earth more than any of us. He was suffering space dementia when we were with Quasar - Matt and I figured it out - he found an escape to that and I don’t want to - I _can’t_ bring him back into all this shit.”

Katie seems stricken. “Katie, not Pidge, you haven’t made that mistake in years. So I know you have more feelings about this than you’re letting on.”

Keith closes his eye. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Space dementia…. Actually explains a lot of things.”

Keith nods.

“But I can fucking counter it. If you’d _told_ me - I’ve pretty much mastered the healing pod’s functions. Keith, we can regenerate brain cells, we can fix that. We can prevent dementia. Keith, please, this is _Lance._ ” She gestures aggressively to where Lance is sitting - Keith looks over to see heat rising to the man’s face _again_ as he watches them.

“He’s starstruck by us,” Keith huffs. “I want Lance back, not a fanboy.”

Katie scoffs. “We _will_ get Lance back! And - what do you mean Shiro’s here? Where the hell is he? He fucking left us-”

“I know,” Keith says harshly. “I know. He’s… he’s here. You can talk to him if you want. He runs this place, apparently.”

Katie stares down at Keith’s shoulder level for a minute. “Don’t you want to?”

Keith closes his eye. “Of _course_ I want to.”

“Then let’s do it. Fuck what Shiro says. Let’s take Lance to the Castle of Lions. See how old he is, give him his memories back.”

Keith frowns.

“Keith, god _damn_ , you used to do whatever the hell you wanted way back when, what happened?”

Keith doesn’t know what happened. He opens his eye. “Alright. Fine. We can take him back to see the Castle. We can tell him everything.”

“Because you want to?” Katie’s checking him.

He nods. “I really want to.”

Katie turns, pressing her hands to the glass, staring at Lance. “Fuck, I missed him so much…”

“I know…”

Lance has finished his drink.

“We’ll come back after Klaiyon,” Keith decides.

“Definitely.”

He turns away from Lance and leaves, Katie behind him.

### you're all that and i'm - v

Lance catches up to them as soon as they’re about to get into Katie’s green speeder. “Wait!”

Keith glances back.

“You’re leaving?”

“We gotta go, Lance,” Katie calls back, her eyebrows screwing up in pain. She refuses to turn her head toward him. “We’re very late for something important.”

Zialis’s transmission comes in on cue. “Katie, we’re going to be late. Have you found Keith yet? We need to _go._ ”

“Coming,” Keith says into the comms. He turns back to Lance. “We’ll be back.” They’ll _definitely_ be back. Keith will cancel all the dinner parties he fucking needs to to come back for Lance.

“Babe,” he hears, from further down the street - he turns more, and time freezes for a second. It’s like looking into a mirror, almost - the red-orange skinned alien coming towards them bears a striking resemblance to Keith’s face, black hair unruly and all over the place, in his violet eyes and covering his ears. Katie’s speeder turns on.

“Eluxis,” Lance says, something kind of strange in his voice - like he wasn’t particularly happy about seeing Eluxis, but maybe it’s just Keith’s wishful thinking.

Eluxis raises his arms slightly in a _what the hell_ kind of gesture. “Where’ve you been?”

“I-”

Eluxis just grabs Lance’s hand, turning and pulling him in the opposite direction as Katie accelerates forward. Lance turns back and stares at them over his shoulder - he’s already out of earshot.

Keith turns back around to face forward.

Katie purses her lips. “The other plus point to bringing Lance back would be that you’ll finally have a boyfriend.”

Keith’s mind short circuits. “Excuse me?”

“I figured it out years ago, don’t be surprised. And,” she throws a glance at him. “Recent interactions prove you still love him.”

Keith lets his head fall back into his seat. Katie is too smart for him to pretend she’s wrong, _and_ he’s still a really fucking terrible liar. “I already agreed to bring Lance back.”

“Yeah, remember when I said you have more emotions about this than you’re telling me?”

“What are you, a behavioral analyst?”

“I’m your friend.”

Fair.

### i finished my paper at four this morning - vi

He can’t focus throughout the entirety of their dinner with Klaiyon. For once, he doesn’t even touch the drinks - just keeps side-eyeing Katie throughout the entire affair. She’s just as distracted as him, and they haven’t told anyone yet on mutual agreement that Hunk would go _absolutely fucking mental_ if he knew Lance was alive and that they were still _waiting._

Honestly, though, Keith’s pretty sure Hunk would deal with it better than he does - he’s numb for the whole of the party, focusing in on everything blue because he keeps thinking about Lance’s eyes.

“Keith, what’s up with you,” Hunk demands eventually. Keith blinks when he notices Shay on his arm, and - ohhhh, right, Shayyyyy. He takes a moment to remember how she got here, aided by the alien who comes forth.

“Lady Shay,” he says, tipping his head forward slightly. “It’s such a pleasant surprise that you’ve returned to us tonight. Klaiyon can never thank you enough for all your help in stabilizing our planet after you helped Voltron free us.”

She smiles graciously. “Your gratitude is appreciated. I am always prepared to come in times of need and of joy.”

Wow, what a nice person…

“Hello? Keith?”

“Yeah? Sorry.” Keith mumbles to Hunk. His eyes flick to Katie, who’s being confronted by her girlfriend. Wow. Coordinated attack. Rude.

“What’s with you?” Hunk’s waving his hand in front of his face.

Truth is, Keith is just. Not mentally _here._ He’s currently replaying the last image he had of Lance, being dragged away by Elixir, or whoever the fuck. He’s honestly quite put off by the striking resemblance between himself and the boy - if Keith had shorter hair, and maybe a whole face.

“You’re never _this_ broody at these things,” Hunk accuses. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” Keith shrugs casually, but Hunk just raises an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Why do you keep trying to _lie_ to us?” he strains, his voice distressed in a way that’s half joking, half exasperated. “Want a drink of water?”

“Sure,” Keith mutters, reaching forward for the glass on the table near him. He lifts it to his lips behind the cloth and immediately spits it out, mouth puckering in distaste - not that Hunk can see it.

But he shoots Keith a bewildered look anyway as Shay diverges to go talk to someone else. “Dude, seriously, are you okay. That’s not water, that’s firemalt.”

“Yeah, I figured that out,” Keith rasps. Then he thinks, _what the hell,_ and pours it down his throat, just so he’ll have an excuse for acting off. He’s prepared for the vicious stabbing-burning feeling as it scrapes open his esophagus, only coughing twice. He sets the glass down hard, and then looks up at Hunk and smiles. Which, again, Hunk can not _see,_ but Hunk knows him well enough by now to probably figure it out.

“Okay, time to head back for you,” Hunk huffs. “Shay? I’ll be right back,” he promises, looping Keith’s arm in his and pulling him forward. Keith slides it out again, choosing to follow at his own pace as firemalt shoots through his nerves and into his brain.

“I’m ready to fight Alexa,” Keith declares halfway to the entrance.

Hunk raises an eyebrow at him. “Okay? Who is that?”

“Lance’s boyfriend.”

Hunk frowns. “Lance’s _girlfriend._ You mean from sixth grade? How much time do you spend with his AI?”

Hunk’s shepherding him into the Castle now. “No,” Keith frowns. Then he remembers he’s not telling Hunk. “Never mind.” But he _is_ ready to fight Lexus.

“Okay.” Hunk takes him all the way to his room. “Have fun. We’re talking about this later.”

The firemalt wears off as Keith watches Hunk leave - it’s why he has this love-hate relationship with firemalt. On the one hand, it hits quick and hard - straight to hijacking his neurons. On the other hand, he says and does impulsive shit and it wears off in .2 seconds.

On the one hand, it got him away from the dinner party. On the other, Hunk wants details.

On the one hand, he’s the leader so he can do whatever the fuck he wants and he hasn’t done something stupid for a long long time and that means he’s totally allowed to fuck up today. On the one hand, he’s allowed to take the Black Lion and leave. On the other, apparently Katie knows him too well because she’s waiting for him with arms crossed as soon as the doors to his room slide open.

“Hi,” he says stupidly.

“We are _not_ ditching everyone and going off to get Lance on our own,” Katie says.

“No, absolutely not,” Keith says, trying for a smile. “Just gonna go chill with the Black Lion.”

Katie laughs, incredulous. “No, that wasn’t sarcasm, Keith. You’re… getting sidetracked.”

Oh. Plan of action derailed. “Sidetracked?” he lets himself laugh a little, genuine, light. “We found him.”

Katie lifts an eyebrow. “In a good mood, now, aren’t you? You took home the oscar this morning for most brooding actor.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Just another one to add to my collection. A little variety would be nice.”

She catches his arm. “Stop trying to shuffle away from me. Look, Lance is just as important to you as he is to any of us. I’d go as far as to say he’s more important to some of us - Hunk and he literally grew up together.”

“We pretty much grew up together, too,” Keith says, offended.

Katie tilts her head side to side in consideration. “Yeah, you’re not wrong. But that doesn’t give you a right to ditch us all for him. We’ve got to pay these guys our proper respects, you know. Hunk hasn’t seen Shay in, what, two years? Let them have fun.”

Keith groans. He _knows_ what that means. “I can’t wait until morning.”

Katie laughs, turning and dragging him down the hall in the opposite direction. “What’s that big one on Shiro’s wall again? Patience yields focus? Let’s go play.”

Keith relents, because Katie isn’t easy to sway when she has her mind made up. “Fine.” He’s certain that the wait is _actually killing him._

### the third stair creaks and you need to cover the wrappers with other trash - v

Around four vargas past Klaiyan midnight, hunched up with Katie in their gaming room under layers of blankets and junk food, Keith mutters, “Do you think Shiro still deserves a memorial wall? Considering that, you know, he’s alive and all?”

Katie sighs, maneuvering her character into a complicated flip that lands her behind Keith. She swipes at him, driving him to his knees. “I don’t know… he’s still pretty much dead. I didn’t get a chance to talk to him, we were running late.” She frowns. “What’s he look like, now?”

Keith considers, his health bar dangerously low. He runs at Katie again, leaping up into the air to meet her mid-flight as she tries to pull the same stunt again. Amateur. “He grew his hair out, but, like, just the top part. Keeps it tied back. He dresses kind of casual badass-y.”

Katie snorts, dodging Keith’s attacks. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She nails a blow to Keith’s head, and his character takes a second to display a stumbling around animation as Katie kicks him in the side. His health bar is at critical levels now. And he _hates_ using his health replenisher before Katie, but… _fuck._ “Amateur,” she smirks.

“I mean, he has all these, like, belts and pockets and shit, but he wears pants and a t-shirt kind of thing under it all.” Katie nods. “He’s still ripped.”

“ _Lance_ is ripped,” Katie points out, eyebrows raising. “Must be the size of the planet.”

Keith frowns, barely rolling out of the way of an attack. “I’m not following your logic.”

She curves her whole arm up with the controller as she hits her legendary bar, the character powering up with magic as it floats into the air. Keith is fucked. “Big planet, big mass, high gravity, more pressure than typical on Earth, the effect of essentially lifting weights for the rest of your life. Or maybe he just works out more.” The blast of legendary magic hits Keith’s character hard and his health bar is right back down to, like, 2%.

But Katie hasn’t used her health replenisher yet. And his legendary bar is charged. He hits the button to activate it. Katie’s looking at him, controller down on her lap, which is lucky because she could end up using her health replenisher while his character floats up and glows.

“Where do you think he got those scars on his head?” she asks, quiet, and Keith’s attention drifts to his side to look back at her amber eyes, forgetting completely about the game as his thoughts turn solemn. “They’re big. You can’t look at his face without paying attention to them.” She reaches forward and tugs the cloth off his face to one side, the mask to the other. “There’s two of them, and they go so deep - they look - they look awful, Keith.”

Keith watches her for a second longer before fitting his mask back into place and hooking the corner of the cloth back around his ear. “I saw them too, you know, and I know a lot about just how awful something like that looks.” _Cheykrianna wins!_ the game roars, the lowered volume easily audible over the silence between them. It churns thick like molten glass.

Katie sighs, very soft - Keith barely hears it. It’s sad. “I always blame myself for all of this,” she says, her voice small and quiet. “I dragged Hunk and Lance into this mess. Maybe if I hadn’t gone spilling my research to them like a starry eyed teenager, we wouldn't have ever gotten caught up in everything. I know I would still be here, but Lance and Hunk… never wanted to come out here, really.”

Keith frowns. He knows he would still be here, too. Him and Shiro and Matt and Katie - he’s never heard this from her, though. “I’m glad they were here, Katie,” he sends out in the faint light. “I am so, _so_ fucking glad they were here, that it was them and not some alien or someone else who did all of this with us. I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

Katie nods. “I know. But… I mean, Lance would be…” she laughs, then, all of a sudden. “This is so stupid.” she reaches forward again, this time taking the cloth and the mask off of Keith’s face and tossing them back behind the two of them. She draws the blankets tighter around her shoulders and turns back to the display, which is still shooting out victory fireworks with Keith’s mage girl standing proud in the middle. “Stop wearing those, someday. You don’t need to wear them. You saved the universe, and you don’t need to hide it behind any kind of fucking mask, no matter how scary and badass it makes you look.”

Keith reaches up to trail a finger down the side of his face, scarred and unrecognizable. “Maybe someday.” He reaches to his right and grabs a handful of sour-sweet candy beads, popping them into his mouth and preparing for round three.

### i finished my paper at four this morning - vii

They get two vargas of sleep - but Keith’s pumped up and ready to _leave_ Klaiyon the next day, ready to soar away from the jaw-dropping bismuth formations, because they’re beautiful but he really doesn’t care. Zialis picks up on it right away - she greets them with crossed arms and “Katie, why do you stay up playing video-games, you look exhausted,” to which Katie replies, “Au contraire, my padawan. I’ve never felt more alive in my life.”

The fun part is hijacking the Castle controls and steering them back toward Hher. It’s listening to Coran’s confusion, asking why they’re going back to the planet, how they’re travelling to another planet in two days and this puts them off course. It’s listening to Katie say, “we found Lance,” and Hunk snapping to attention so fast that several springs fly out of the small wristwatch he’s been working on these last few movements.

_“What?”_

“We found Lance,” Katie grins. Keith leans back up from his seat and turns to watch the exchange. Hunk’s going pale. “He’s lost his memory from Lotor’s attack, but we found him. And we’re going to bring him back, fix him up with the AI.”

“You’re joking,” Hunk says, dead quiet.

“Shiro’s down at Hher, too.”

Hunk’s watch clatters out of his hands - Katie bends to pick it up, turning it around in her fingers casually. “Shiro? What the fuck is he doing down there?”

“Stupid shit,” Keith says passively. “Lance seems to fit in well with them.”

There’s this stretch, then - this pulling of the moment, dragging it out, and everything seems still as Hunk just stares dead into his eyes. And then it’s broken: _“And you didn’t tell me???”_

Keith nods to Katie. “She just did.”

Hunk pulls his hands up to his face. “Holy shit.” Drags them down his eyes and cheeks, staring up at the starry ceiling. “Holy shit. What does he look like?”

“He looks damn good,” Keith admits, a little quieter, but Katie’s raucous laughter makes it impossible to go unnoticed.

“He looks so good Keith found his libido,” she says. Keith flushes and nods his head down a little, as if he can hide even more behind his mask than he already is. “He’s got these terrible scars - but he looks like he’s in top shape, honestly, and _god_ I can’t wait to get him back.”

“What’s libido?” Nyma’s murmuring to Matt, who immediately cracks up, falling back into his chair. Coran just looks stunned.

“Is the AI clean enough for the memories to be imported back into a host body?” he asks. “We don’t want to end up with a version of Lance that we may not like.”

“Oh, fuck,” Hunk groans. “It’s still pretty corrupted. I mean, it’s a lot better than before, but Zialis is the only one who’s been working on it because it’s…”

“Well, I didn’t want to see Lance,” Katie says. “But we’ll get on it.” She grabs Hunk’s hand - but he’s the one who ends up pulling her as he swivels and fucking _bolts_ to the AI chamber.

### sunlight filters through ash to illuminate bloodied petals - viii

In the few vargas it takes for them to get back down to Hher, Keith shuts himself inside the Black Lion again. Drives himself into a singularity of focus, because as he spears his mind out into Black’s consciousness he can feel the boundaries of Shiro’s sentience, feel the resistance there. It takes intense concentration before he opens his eyes to find Shiro carefully scattering dust over an old book lying open on a desk, bound in ash blue and the pages wrinkled with age, stained in dark brown. There are no words on it. He’s successfully drawn the man into Black’s consciousness, and he hasn’t noticed yet.

“Shiro,” Keith says quietly, his voice echoing for miles in the starry landscape. He’s wearing his paladin suit in this projection. Shiro startles and glances up, turning, blinking and leaning on the back of his chair in disorientation.

“Keith?” He reaches behind him and folds the book closed. Looks around. “The astral pl… Oh.” His eyes settle on Keith’s again, and it’s unnerving - Keith didn’t notice it at first, but Shiro looks normal, like he used to before he disappeared. Not like he does now.

He decides to comment on it. “Short hair again? Is this how you prefer to be seen?”

Shiro blinks. “No, I just… I don’t know. This is how I’ve always appeared to you when I’ve talked to you here over the years.”

Keith frowns. “Well, you can stop.”

Shiro shrugs, and his hair elongates, stretches backwards and binds into a ponytail, muscles widening, but age dragging the skin of his face down. “I’ll admit, I really don’t follow where all this hostility is coming from. I’ve been helping you.”

“You _left_ us.” Keith’s voice cracks. “I spent so many _fucking_ years looking for you before finally giving up. We had everyone in the AI except for you. You- you promised-”

“I know, Keith, I know, I know and I’m so sorry-”

“You promised you _wouldn’t leave me._ You fucking told me that no matter what, if you had a choice in it, you wouldn’t _fucking_ leave. So finding out, after all this time of thinking that you were _dead_ that you were _choosing_ not to let us know you were alive, after _choosing_ to stay away from us-”

“I can’t go out into space, Keith,” Shiro defends helplessly. “My body can’t handle that anymore. I told you-”

“But you could have talked to us. We could have figured out a way to store you in a pod and take you to Earth, maybe, yeah, someone like Lance or Hunk would have liked that. You could have tried. But then, Lance is there with you, isn’t he, not even knowing his home planet, maybe not even knowing that you and him are the only ones of the same fucking _species_ -”

“They call us Centurions, here, not humans, but he knows we’re the same species-”

“Not my point! You didn’t fucking once _ever tell me-_ ” Keith breaks off, the tears suddenly pushing forward and springing off his lashes as he furiously wipes them away with the palm of his hand. “...”

“Keith, I know you feel betrayed-”

“It’s more than just a _feeling._ ”

“But this is the best I could do.”

God, Keith can’t believe he’s _crying._

“I’m sorry, I could have told you, but I - I figured things out too late, and. I’m doing my best, Keith, and I’d hate for us to lose connection like this-”

“Oh, we lost connection a long fucking time ago.” Keith forces his eyes open wide, trying to make his tears dry up faster. He focuses on the book behind where Shiro stands. “What’s that?”

Shiro hesitates, looking back. “Lance’s book. But there’s nothing in it.”

…

???

“Well, obviously there’s _something_ in it, considering I saw you spreading powder over it.”

“I was just… checking.”

“Checking for what?” something jogs Keith’s memory - a conversation with Matt from long ago. “Royan invisibility powder? You think he wrote in invisible ink?”

Shiro sighs. “Could be. I’m just figuring it out.”

If Lance wrote in invisible ink, something from long ago makes sense, suddenly - this one time they went to a planet specializing in espionage for help with a mission. Lance blew like, all of his betting money on these little bottles that never saw the light of day after Lance took them to his room. Invisible ink. And the only thing that would reveal what was written would be Lance’s own breath.

Keith snorts. “Give that to me.”

Shiro hesitates.

“We haven’t seen you in, like, seven years. You don’t know how to read that. Give it to me.”

Still doesn’t move.

Keith loses his cool. The stars of the astral plane spiral around him and push him forward, until he’s flying - phasing through Shiro’s projection, book slamming straight into his fingers as he pulls it to his chest, and then he’s falling, falling, falling until he jerks awake in Black’s pilot seat.

With Lance’s book in his hands. The dark brown staining the pages is blood. Old blood, Lance’s blood from the fight three years ago.

He leans back, tipping his head against the seat.

And breaks down crying, because what else is there to do at this point, honestly.

### i finished my paper at four this morning - viii

His eyes still burn by the time they reach Hher again. Katie is banging on his hangar door, screaming at him through the metal, threatening to leave without him and generally goading him with shitty renditions of old love songs from Earth. He opens it and her first words are, “Jesus, what the _hell_ happened to _you._ And is that blood??” He squints at her hair - it’s actually neat for once.

“You know we’re supposed to help Lance regain his memory, not make it harder for him to recognize you, right?” he deadpans.

“I just had sex with Zialis. Maybe if you trimmed your fucking lion’s mane, you’d have a chance too.”

“I thought you were asexual. Also, I’m not interested in Zialis.”

“I am. It was a joke.” Katie grabs his arm and pulls him away from the hangar. “And it’s a good thing you’re not, because I would kill you.”

“Nah.”

“I’d come pretty close to killing you.”

That, at least, is a plausible threat, so he leaves it be.

“Besides, I meant your future boyfriend.”

“He _has_ a boyfriend.”

“A boyfriend who looks _exactly_ like you did before you got all depressed and mopey about Lance dying!” She doesn’t slow down at the corners - he struggles to keep up, she’s holding his right hand in her right hand and he really doesn’t want to trip over her feet. “Kill him.”

“Are you, like, fucking fifteen?”

“Yes.”

“No, you’re not! God, I just want him back with us, okay?”

And there it is - the genuine smile that spreads across Katie’s face. It’s a very specific smile he hasn’t seen in many many many years because she only ever used it with Lance. Something like love there, sisterly, but not in the same way she loves Matt. And it looks nice on her. “Me, too,” she says, quietly. She pulls him straight to the pod bay and into a pod - starts it up and launches out before he can even get settled in. He catches the twin faces of betrayal that Zialis and Hunk both share in the rearview.

Hunk’s is close behind them, tailgating if keith’s opinion is wanted on the matter, but okay. He winces as Katie speeds straight into the atmosphere, the ship rocking. “Jeez, no need to be so careful.”

“The structure can take it. I don’t really care right now.”

Keith glances back at Hunk and Zialis - Hunk shuts eyes as Zialis powers through right behind them. He turns back around, squinting at the display as it pulls up approaching landing spots. “No no no-”

“Other hemisphere, I know,” Katie mutters, pulling them into a tight curve as they sway south.

“Don’t fly us upside down, that’s so annoying,” Keith mutters.

She rights the pod. “There it is.” She taps the screen in front of her - it auto-locks on the mansion, the display grainy from so far away.

Keith’s heart thrums.

### takeout is better when you're broke and there are leftovers in the fridge - xi

Lance isn’t there when they set down in the courtyard and exit, team Voltron in all its glory - People are gasping, in the middle of their breakfast, gazing in awe at the armor and the pods as they reflect the starlight. Keith scans the crowd wildly, feeling the absence of one eye strongly for the first time in forever. But Lance definitely isn’t here.

Shiro is, though, stepping out from the crowd. “Keith,” he says.

“Where is he?” Keith asks.

“Shiro!” Coran.

“Oh, my god-” Hunk. Then he’s barreling forward, hitting Shiro hard with an embrace that would knock the wind out of most other people.

“Hey,” Shiro says softly, and people are whispering - Keith catches the words _Centurions,Voltron, Altean, Shiro, legend._ “Lance isn’t here right now.”

“What? Why not?”

“Well, I expect he’s at Ofella’s house,” Shiro says. “It’s good to see you, Pidge.”

She stiffens. “My name is Katie.”

Shiro smiles apologetically. “I’m sorry. Katie.”

She gives him a small smile, but doesn’t move - because she shares Keith’s outlook on the matter of Shiro. Hunk doesn’t. But Katie does. Very much so.

“Where is Ofella’s house?” Keith asks, as Hunk finally lets go and Coran moves in. Shiro wraps the man in a hug.

“He’s not at my house.” Keith turns to see the lady from the tavern Lance was with, standing at the back of the circle that’s formed around them.

“Who’s Lance?” someone whispers to her, but she ignores them.

“He’s with Eluxis. I haven’t heard from him recently.”

“Eluxis?” Katie asks.

“They’re busy, then,” Shiro says. “You’re welcome to stay here, Keith. And I’m hoping you’ll - you’ll reconsider.”

“Reconsider?”

“Consider letting Lance stay,” Shiro clarifies for Hunk.

“What? Why? We want him back. And we want you back, too. Aren’t you coming with us?” Hunk questions.

Shiro shakes his head. “I can’t travel to space anymore. And I’m good where I am. And so is Lance - he’s grown into the community here. Have you considered that he might not want to be going back with you?”

Keith scoffs, loud, dripping with scorn, and several people flinch. “Didn’t seem that way when we first asked him.”

“We’re here for Lance, and we’re not leaving without him,” Katie declares dangerously.

Shiro slowly puts his arms up, hesitant. “...Okay.”

And the look of immense sadness pricks at Keith inside just a little - at least part of the reason Shiro doesn’t want them to take Lance away must be because he doesn’t want to be left alone.

He turns to Katie. “Talk to Shiro about coming with us, too. It’s worth asking him. But I’m not going to do it.”

She frowns. “Hunk can do it.”

Keith nods, shrugging slightly. “Do you have space for us?”

Shiro nods. “More than enough.”

Keith huffs. “We’re staying. And I want to contact Lance. After we get him, we’re leaving.”

### you're all that and i'm - vi

He doesn’t hear from Lance until the evening when the man inexplicably knocks on Keith’s door. Keith’s lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, adrift in thought. “What?”

It’s not Katie, like he expected. The door opens and it’s Lance, and Keith immediately sits up, fumbling with the cloth to hook it back across his mouth and around behind his ear.

Lance is frowning. “Hey…” he sounds nervous.

“You heard we were back?”

He snorts. “Yeah, everyone’s talking about it. Listen… I’m not sure if I want to come up with you guys. Don’t get me wrong, that’s seriously awesome that you asked me to do that, and I can’t imagine how you decided me of all people - but I really, honestly don’t feel that… that this is right for me.”

Keith’s in shock. “What?”

“I’m really really flattered - Hell, it’s probably the greatest thing that’s happened to me in the last three years of my life, but I really don’t want to… I don’t… I’m sorry, and I really don’t mean this in-”

“You’re coming with us.”

Lance’s face twists into something close to anguish. “I really-”

“Did Shiro put you up to this?”

“Wha- no, no, it was someo-... no.”

“... someone else?”

“No,” Lance says hurriedly. “I’m sorry. I’m so honored, I swear. But I can’t… I’m not… I don’t know, I’m sorry. I’m going to have to refuse your offer.” Lance hasn’t budged, the door closed behind him, holding the doorknob with both hands as he leans back on it. Keith stands.

“There’s no option in this. We _need_ you up there-” he cuts himself short, recognizing the anger. Lance’s face is slightly pale. “Please.”

Lance opens his mouth, like he’s trying to speak - it wavers, his voice almost coming out, and then the door whips open and Lance stumbles forward, glancing back over his shoulder as he massages his wrist.

Eluxis stands in the door. “What he means is, we’re busy,” he says, circling one arm around Lance’s waist and pulling him close. Lance’s jaw is set, his eyes weighted to the floor.

“Too busy for Voltron?” Keith asks, arms crossing.

“Yes. Too busy for Voltron.” Keith narrows his eye at the hand on Lance’s waist - it’s curled inward, gripping tightly, fingers digging into Lance’s skin, only Lance doesn’t seem to indicate that there’s anything out of the ordinary.

“Doesn’t seem very respectful of you,” Keith mutters, walking forward, and Eluxis doesn’t even wince. It’s disturbing how much looking at him feels like looking into a mirror. One that showed him the past, maybe.

“Doesn’t seem very defender of the universe of you to take an innocent person captive against his wishes,” Eluxis growls back, glaring.

“I’d like to hear this from Lance,” Keith says.

“I don’t know a Lance,” Eluxis challenges.

Keith just nods to Lance instead, staring at the lowered blue eyes. “Eluxis,” Lance whispers, and Keith can barely hear it, but most definitely has no trouble seeing how Eluxis’s arm around Lance’s waist tightens, pulling them still closer together.

“I’d like to talk to him alone, Eluxis,” Keith says. It’s a reasonable request. One that should be honored.

“Whatever you have to say can be said to the both of us,” Eluxis insists. And oh, Keith is very close to decking him just so he can talk to Lance. Because he didn’t wait three fucking years to be stopped by some shitty mirror image boyfriend.

“Why does he look like me, Lance?” Keith asks instead. And he can tell it catches Lance off guard, because his eyebrows fall inward, his eyes squinting at the edges a little bit. “Why does Eluxis look like I did when I was… what, twenty four, maybe? Right about the time you disappeared.” Something about that definitely ticks Eluxis off.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he sneers.

“Why does he have anger issues worse than me at eighteen?”

“You’re spouting nonsense.”

“Why does he-”

“ _Blue, we’re leaving._ ” Eluxis turns, and when Lance doesn’t follow, he throws an incredulous glance over his shoulder, and reaches out - catches his wrist, grip so tight Lance’s fingers splay outward as he reaches toward the door with his other hand.

That’s the last piece that Keith needs to figure out that _something_ here is not right. His bayard is already in his hands with a flash, defaulting to his sword as he grabs Eluxis by the shoulder and slams him against the wall, levelling the edge of his blade against Eluxis’s throat. The top of it is right up near Lance’s face, because Eluxis is still holding his hand and his fingers are blue - “Let go,” Keith says quietly, and after a minute Eluxis obeys.

Keith turns to Lance and raises his eyebrow. “Do you want to come with us? Honest answer.”

Lance just stares at him, looking back and forth between Keith and Eluxis, something morphing in his face like he’s reaching a conclusion.

“If it helps, think about which one of us would win in a fight,” Keith says, “and say whatever you want.”

Lance inhales shakily. “I…”

The door slams open with a “Keith!” Katie stops dead at the threshold, eyes darting between Keith, Eluxis, Lance. Her mouth drops open. “Lance!” She rushes forward and throws her arms around him - he brings his own up awkwardly, but then she seems to remember herself and springs back, struggling to say something. Her eyes slide back over to Keith.

She processes the scene for another second before slapping her palm against her forehead. “Come on, Keith. Let’s go. I didn’t mean it literally, earlier this morning, you know?” She grabs Lance’s hand - the way a _normal_ person would, and Lance turns his pale face downward and follows without protest as she drags him out the door. Keith turns back to Eluxis, who’s staring at him back with hatred in his eyes.

“Learn some fucking decency,” Keith spits. “Usually that means not trying to break someone’s wrist. Especially not when a person like me is in the room with you, hyper-attentive to said-someone’s future well being. Stay away.” He releases him, and stalks out the room to follow Katie.

### jenny was a friend of mine - viii

“Think about this, Keith-”

“Katie, we’re good to go,” Keith interrupts Shiro. The glass closes down over his head and Shiro’s voice cuts off. He turns to look at the man before lifting off.

There’s nothing. No feeling. And Shiro doesn’t show any either.

It _has_ been ten years. Shiro skipped out on a bulk of the fighting. The gambling. The dying. The killing. Everything.

Ofella is next to him, crying, waving to Lance who’s sitting next to Hunk in the pod in front of Keith. Matt and Nyma behind him. Coran next to him, and Katie and Zialis leading back to the Castle.

### let’s ride our bikes out to the arcade - iv

Lance won’t stop fucking talking. Keith forgot how much Lance used to talk. Starting the moment the Castle comes into view - Keith silences the communicator mere seconds into it, but Coran snaps at him for that and turns it back on. Personally, Keith thinks he took that first time Keith silenced him while fighting Zarkon a little too hard. So he’s stuck listening to Lance blabber on and on about how awesome and cool everything is.

“Yeah, I guess. You get used to it,” Nyma interjects at one point. Which causes Matt to snort and their pod to lag behind for a second, something Keith doesn’t understand.

“But it’s so _huge_. How long does it take you to get from place to place?? What if you’re asleep and someone attacks, they could destroy the ship before you got to your Lions.”

“Been there, done that.” Hunk’s voice. “As a drill. Shiro was the only one who actually made it on time.”

There’s a pause, and then Matt and Lance at the same time: “Shiro used to be a Paladin?”

“Yeah,” Keith mutters. “Key word used to.”

“He’s dead?” Matt.

“What? No,” Lance laughs. “He’s down there.”

“Shiro? Takashi Shirogane is down there???”

“Yeah???”

“Matt, did you not notice him?” Katie says.

“Um, _no._ I was toward the back. Cool aliens were asking for autographs.”

“Jesus,” Keith mutters.

“Can I have autographs?”

“ _No,_ ” Keith snaps.

“Absolutely!” Coran says instead. “It’s been many years since someone asked for one. I’ll have to practice my signature again.”

Keith sighs.

### i finished my paper at four this morning - ix

Katie wastes absolutely no time. “Lance, I’m gonna need you to step into this pod for me.”

Which, for obvious reasons, does not really go over well. “What? Why? Aren’t those cryosleep?”

“Yeah, but we’re giving you your memories back, not putting you into cryosleep,” she says.

“Blue, do you mind if you and I take a tour of the Castle?” Nyma says pointedly. Keith’s attention snaps to her all of the sudden.

“Uhh…”

“I’ll show you around. We’ll talk.”

“Sure,” Lance says, staring at the pod. Nyma gives a certain _look_ to Katie before gesturing to the end of the hall with her head. Lance follows behind her, glancing back at the rest of them, as they all watch him silently.

Keith turns to Katie as he drifts out of earshot. “Guess we can’t just bring him here and shove him into a pod.”

“Well, _obviously_ not!” Hunk exclaims, words strained and deliberately slow. “Dude! Gotta ease him into it. As far as he’s concerned, Team Voltron just showed up randomly and picked him up and took him to a Castle. He doesn’t know what’s going on. He’s probably just taking stock of everything and thinking about telling it all to Ofella down on Hher.”

“Well, yeah, but that won’t matter after he gets his memories back-”

“Keith, I want him back just as much as you. But you can’t rush him, okay?”

“Does Nyma know that?” Keith makes eye contact with Matt at his words. He shrugs. “I mean. She’s really straightforward, kind of harsh, sometimes. Does she get the whole ease him into it concept, or is she just gonna rush in and tell him all about everything?”

“Lance will be fine,” Coran says after a couple seconds of silence. “He’s resilient, if I remember anything about him. And I do.”

Keith clenches his teeth. They’re so fucking _close._ “How many planets do we have left, Coran?”

Coran holds up his fingers. “Well, we have the entire Dartan Belt, just two more systems in the Vindici sector, and an outlier Planet X named Kouar. After that we have to go round two-”

“Round two?” Keith blanches.

“Yes, starting with the Daibazaal colonies again-”

“Didn’t we already distribute communicators for this reason? So we don’t have to keep ferrying between planets?” Keith asks.

Coran finds his eye, a look of sympathy drawn up on his face. “Yes, that’s true. I know you’ve been working hard for this for ten years.”

“Hunk, how are those comms working out, anyway?” Keith asks.

Hunk frowns. “Pretty well. Planets are reaching out, making individual alliances, contributing to the coalition. The universal senate’s almost in order, and they’re all helping out with it. Freedom unites them. Not much in the way of trade and economy yet, considering everyone’s recovering the same from the Galra, but Divitrine is lending out a hand where it can.”

“Technologically, everything’s fine,” Katie adds.

“Servers are holding up spectacularly,” Zialis says.

“Then why do we have to go back?”

“After we finish, guys, I’m sorry. I’m heading back to Earth,” Matt declares.

That heavy feeling settles into Keith’s chest. “Me, too,” Katie says. “I want to see Mom again.”

“That’s respectable,” Coran allows.

“I want to go back,” Hunk says. “I miss my own planet. We’ve seen thousands of others, and we haven’t once visited Earth.

“I don’t have a home, anywhere, so I’ll go with Katie,” Zialis says.

Keith sighs. He doesn’t… know where he wants to go. Does he want to go to Earth? He guesses so. But he doesn’t want to keep going planet to planet. He doesn’t want to waste away the rest of his long, long, long life amidst the blackness that separates planet and star. He doesn’t want to be alone forever. “If you’re all going to Earth, I… I’m coming, too, you know?”

And Lance would be coming too. Definitely. Because he’ll have his memories back and Keith can take him back to Earth, and maybe - maybe he could meet Lance’s family, _properly,_ not through the AI, maybe he could meet everyone else’s family. Maybe he’d… go back to the Garrison to teach, or something. Commander Iverson would have fun with that idea.

The very thought is so trivial in his mind. To have fought for a decade on the edge between life and death, and then the idea of settling into a school setting, telling students off for every rule-breaking behavior he could probably find on his old bucket-list.

He pushes the absurdity of it out of his mind. Coran inhales and exhales. “I know we’ve never seriously talked about this, but Voltron - it’s not just a job. It’s a lifetime commitment. It’s part of you. And when upheaval rises again, it’s going to be your duty, first and foremost.”

“Hey,” Hunk says gently, a smile lighting his lips. “Don’t worry about that. We’re all with this for the rest of our lives. It’s just… balance is good. We’ve reunited the entire universe, more or less, and we all deserve to head back to Earth and sit back for a little bit. But you guys are my family now. Nothing is going to change that.”

“You can live with us, Coran,” Matt says. “Or on Commander Loreal’s planet. Or with Hunk.”

“We could all move to live near each other,” Katie suggests. “Honestly, I don’t know if I could stay away from you guys for very long.”

Keith stays silent. He’s reading too much into it - but it feels like they were talking just as much to him as they were to Coran. “I don’t know how people on Earth would take to finding out about the existence of aliens,” he says, looking up at Coran, thinking about Nyma. “From what’s rumored, Earth is very, _very_ distrusting of you guys.”

“Well, I mean, Coran can pass as human enough,” Hunk speculates. “Nyma… would not be content staying at home all day, no…”

“Nyma would not be content staying on a single planet all day,” Matt laughs. “She’s meant for the stars. But _marvelously_ she’s not sick of them yet.”

“I don’t mind living under the radar,” Zialis says. “The best programming happens from the shadows, anyway.”

Katie grins. “We’ve got Lance back, guys.”

Hunk’s laugh in response is wet, his eyes shining as tears brim over his bottom lashes. “Yeah.” His voice is thick with emotion. He curls his fingers up into his hair, grinning uncontrollably.

Their family feels whole again.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates every ten days.  
> Here's my [tumblr](https://stupid-altean-pools.tumblr.com/)
> 
> And beautiful art by [Sadie!](http://x0es.tumblr.com/)  
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Please please check out the works of other writers in the klance big bang as well, they're all so good <3


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